But if you can still dream
by Srebrna
Summary: ...close your eyes, it will seem that you can see me now and then. So they both dream and the dreams sometimes come true. RoseTen. Fluff, for now. WIP. S3 spoilers. Rating M just in case.
1. All days are nights 1

**Caution: spoilers for s2 and s3 finale of the new series, also listening to "Song for Ten" would be useful (see on youtube, nice fanvideos)**

All days are nights to see till I see thee,

And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

_Sonnet 43_

**Rose – Daydreaming**

Rose was not daydreaming. In fact, everybody knew that Rose Tyler never daydreamed. Indeed, she might have been walked upon sitting in her chair, with legs propped on her desk and eyes staring through the wall, fixed on something (or someone) who wasn't there. She also sometimes seemed to lose track during meetings, parties and even her own speeches (but then she would only pause for a second, shake her head and continue without a word of explanation). But that was called „calculating" or „reconsidering" or (although way less often) „creating the connections hierarchy".

Everybody knew Rose Tyler never daydreamed and they made sure all new employees of Torchwood knew it too. After all, she was the genius child of the boss, she was a head of a department of her own and she had an uncanny tendency to pick the most useful artefacts out of the daily load that came to the office by the means of a big, unmarked black truck.

Sometimes she simply had to walk in the unloading area to pick a broken sonic screwdriver (this one she kept to herself by special permission of the labs overseer), freshly loaded xenon gun, an archive reader with some interesting blueprints (this she fished out of a truckload of different PDA-likes) or find the part that research dept has been looking for since April.

So, whatever Rose Tyler was doing now, was not daydreaming. She was in her office, in the weird white room, door half-closed (just in case something interesting happened, like the whole building catching fire) and she sat, with her head on her hands, elbows on top of some new documents, eyes staring absently ahead.

Rose was rethinking the possibilities. Except, these weren't the possibilities or rethinking normally considered as "working problems" in Torchwood. No, she was rethinking long gone and past possibilities concerning one hyperactive alien she left a universe away.

Today was the first anniversary of her coming to this place and the only thing she could think of was that she actually missed so many good occasions. Like, when they just ran from something big and ugly – not once, mind you – and got to the TARDIS at the very last moment, and jumped through the door, shut it close and just stood there, panting, high on adrenaline, smiling like idiots at each other…

_…or this time when they just got out of this weird museum – they could have just kicked the kid – Adam? - out, and she could have got to the bottom of the problem, and perhaps, just perhaps, make him a little happier. She just knew, she could have walked into the control room, and he would be brooding in the main chair – or with his head inside the machinery – or staring intently at some display, and she would just be there and he _**would**_ talk, finally, and she would comfort him – just a hug, one of their normal hugs, and he would perhaps relax, just a tiny little bit…_

… Rose stretched and run her fingers through her hair. Somewhere nearby there was a cafeteria, and in this specific cafeteria they made the best ever chips in this universe. Of course, it being the Torchwood cafeteria, it would be stacked with all different kinds of food, but for now, she would settle for chips. Perhaps something more healthy later, but now she had this stupid craving to stuff herself full of processed potato and drink excessive amounts of Coke. And perhaps, just perhaps, to shed a tear for lost opportunities.

"Miss Tyler?" her secretary poked her head inside. "Mr Tyler is here. And you have a meeting in twenty five minutes."

So, Rose wasn't daydreaming, but she certainly lost the track of time. And this was also something that never – or almost never – happened.

The Head of Unusual Solutions Department stood up, straightened her jacket, fixed seams of her suit pants and smiled professionally.

"Let my father in, Jeannie, I'm only making some last notes."

* * *

AN: I hope everyone waiting for the next chapter of "Memory" will forgive me, but this idea has been following me around for something like 4 months already and begging to be written. I managed to produce 10 parts for now and I hope to have more before I run out of these :) "Memory" will be coming back soon.

AN2: I hope to stick to the canon here. Point any mistakes if you see them. I'm open to constructive criticism!


	2. All days are nights 2

All days are nights to see till I see thee,

And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

_Sonnet 43_

**The Doctor – Sleeping**

Time Lords never slept. Of course, this was an exaggeration – they did too. Only not as much as humans of any kind. Almost every other species in the universe needed more sleep than Time Lords, so they generally seemed to cope without sleeping. Of course, as their number was suddenly cut down to one Time Lord, there were even less individuals who would have a chance to see a sleeping one.

Such an individual was now standing in the middle of the Control Room of the last TARDIS left in existence and tried to move as quietly as possible. It was quite probable, he thought, that this was the first time _he_ actually slept in days, if not months of his own time and was now catching up. Nobody was exactly a proficient when it came to Time Lord physiology and the only specimen (and the best expert on the topic) was not exactly forthcoming. So he left the specimen to his beauty sleep and went to explore the TARDIS more thoroughly. After all, it seemed that he was here to stay, so he wanted to welcome the old girl and actually get to know his way around. Even though she hated his very existence, she had to live with it – he explained it loudly and clearly the very first minute he stepped inside this time – he was the _only_ one who could keep up with her main passenger, the only one who will stay alive long enough for the Doctor never to be alone again and the only one who fully – or as much as a human mind can comprehend – understood the crazy Time Lord and his obsession with interdimensional rifts of any kind. And probably the only one who would not wake said Time Lord up when he mumbled and murmured in his sleep, especially if he mumbled one specific female name.

Also, he prided himself to be one of the few who would not feel jealous of the ever-present memory of this specific female (unlike the last companion, who walked out on the Doctor after quite a speech). Actually, he could sympathise with his host on his loss. After all, he loved Rose too. Oh, not in this high-and-holy way the Doctor apparently did – admire, never touch, protect, never admit his feelings, yadda, yadda. If it wasn't for the Doctor – in any meaning of the phrase – he would have gladly seduced Rose Tyler and had his way with her – to their mutual pleasure, of course, he always cared for this part. The Doctor, simply by being himself, created an obstacle not to be by-passed. One thing was that Rose was visibly smitten with the alien, even in the previous "I'm a dark man in leather and black" incarnation. The looks of the current one – declaring himself to be number ten – had her probably salivating for him all the time. _He_ was sure to check his chin for any drops that may have escaped as he looked at the adorably tousled hair, delicately-carved features and almost Bambi-like eyelashes. The other thing...

_Damn. This whole reincarnation thing... Is it possible that the circumstances affect the effect? He looks – if **I** know Rose and her mates – like every twenty-year-old's wet dream. Not that I'm really impervious to the aesthetics of this edition myself, too. You just want to pat his head, take him home and feed him cake and tea. And he is actually cute enough to be presented to any respectable parents, not like the mad Northerner Number Nine. From what I heard about Rose's mother, she didn't take kindly to her lovely daughter travelling with a guy who looked her father's age and was probably shagging her in this little weird box of his. This one, on the other hand, looks some ten years older than Rose is, so he is way more acceptable for an average human family, he actually dresses with some degree of elegance and can probably hold a coherent conversation with random relatives without escaping to the TARDIS and muttering obscenities about "doing domestic"._

He sighed and patted the wall again. TARDIS rumbled quietly in a question-like tone.

"Kitchen, dear. I might be a frigging immortal, but even Greek Gods needed ambrosia and nectar. I run on caffeine and meat. And if you help me get myself full, I promise to fix these panes in the second corridor you've been complaining about. Let him sleep, I'm not ready to face a sleep-deprived Time Lord for a few more hours yet."

The ship sounded and agreement and led him a short way to the kitchen.

_He smelled something being fried. Actually, he smelled chips being fried, and some vinegar and some other, unspecified foodstuffs._  
_A sigh escaped him as she appeared just in front of him, in the line. This one he remembered. In only a few minutes, as soon as they left the premises, a little flotilla of objects would come, bent on destroying all kinds of house pets. They never knew what was really planned, as the pet-killers were fast to refocus when someone countered them in fashion not really suited for this time and place. And said someone didn't took gladly to the idea that his companion, being human, is an inferior species, and as such – his pet, and to be eliminated. As Rose was racing, packets of chips in her hands marking her way with greasy bits of potato, he countered their engines and weapon sources with a complicated combination of sonic screwdriver, bar stool as an energy transmitter and local megaphone network as the emission booster. As they started to glow, blow up and dissolve into masses of multicolored flecks, he followed Rose by following the chip-track. He found her, quite sensibly hidden under some steel container, still clutching the bags and trembling a little. She looked up at him with those big, big chocolatey eyes and he just held out his hand to her._  
_Then they came back to the chip stall, he ordered the next two bags and they walked to the TARDIS. All down-to-earth, mundane and as un-romantic as a bag of oily snacks._  
_He should have... Of course, he should have run with her and guard her with his own body. Stupid, but knightly and hero-like. Or he could have, instead of just helping her to stand up, pick her up in his arms, smile in the most breathtaking way (he checked in front of a mirror and it was quite a catching sight), walk with her to the TARDIS, lock the door and finally kiss her, just to make sure she understood she was _not _a pet. She was a companion. A friend. Even more than a friend. She was _Rose _and he would never let her go... And then perhaps another kiss. Just in case she didn't understand._

He woke up with a start, immediately expecting to bang his head on some interior part of the TARDIS – he had a lifetime experience in falling asleep in the middle of some repairing job (unfortunately his hands usually seemed to work for some time afterwards, so he was never sure if specific changes were intentional or if it was his subconscious was playing with him - and the TARDIS innermost parts).

But this time was different. He still could feel the grille on the control room floor, but not directly. A thin foam mattress did wonders. Someone had also given him a pillow, a blanket and a quilted coverlet. He untangled himself from the covers, snatched his suit jacket from the back of the captain's chair and, shrugging it on, wandered in search of his old-new companion.

Not surprisingly, he found himself in the kitchen, where one Captain Jack Harkness was in the middle of a rather tasty-looking steak, another one waiting on the stove. And he was talking into air. The Doctor straightened his jacket and would have asked his guest about mental problems or hallucinations if he hadn't accidentally touched the wall. _She_ was actually answering the Captain. Even though she felt an instant aversion to the time-stabilised "pretty boy"... _This was Nine's thought, not mine!_ ...she actually talked to him.

"Are you trying to chat up my ship?" he asked casually, strolling in the direction of the main table.

"Oh, hello to you too. No, I was just catching up on what you have been up to since I left. And I don't mean this last time, but..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. So, what did she feed you?"

"Meat" answered Jack around a chunk of steak. "Yours is on the pan, she told me you liked well-done. Chips in the oven, salad in the fridge."

"You are turning into a housewife, Jack. Perhaps I could find you some job as a chef?" he asked as he inspected the interior of the fridge.

"Nah, I can actually cook only a few things. Mostly what I eat myself and can't order to the Hub. Never could really get a take-out which would suit me and my dear colleagues would have been shocked if I really let them know my culinary preferences. Toshiko ate only fish – red meat was totally disgusting to her. Owen would eat almost anything, but not with a bone and certainly he behaved like a girlie when confronted with a rare steak. For a doctor who cuts up alien corpses on a daily basis it was weird. Gwen added sugar to everything. Still haven't worked out how she manages to stay even barely fit, not even asking how she can stay this light! And Ianto is a vegetarian of the strictest order. So ordering a steak to the base would result in a huge row, sounds of disgust, offer of cranberry jam and hurt looks. I found it easier not to get the most controversial food into the Hub, so I rarely eat something like this" he pointed "meat, meat, meat, salad with olive oil and little olives and your favourite little bags of oil – chips".

* * *

**AN**: I just thought the first bit might be a tad bit too short to be interesting. So I'll be posting them in pairs :)


	3. They who dream by day 1

"They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."

Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora (1841)

**Rose - Rapture dreams**

Rose sat in the waiting room of Torchwood medical centre and leafed through a magazine she found there. Not that it was interesting in any way, but it gave her hands something to do and forced her eyes to focus on something. If not for this, they started to wander, and her memories woke up. Especially one, which she didn't know anymore if it was a real memory or some combination of facts and wishes. They just managed to escape - rather narrowly - almost certain demise, and were sitting in the TARDIS kitchen, when Doctor slumped forward in his chair, missing his teacup by inches. She propped him up and was greeted with some barely recognisable English, some Gallifreyan and lots of gibberish (which she finally started to distinguish from Gallifreyan). His eyes were bloodshot...

_...he was pale, and he looked sick even for a human. Of course, she didn't know a jot about Timelord health or illnesses, but if one is having problems staying coherent - even for their flawed standards of coherency - and is blinking all the time to keep awake, they should be filled with appropriate medicine - or hot milk with honey - and put to bed. Unfortunately, the height and weight difference made it quite complicated for Rose to make Doctor stay where he was put - and to put him there in the first place.  
_

_Finally, TARDIS suggested appropriate mix of several drugs - time-lord-only drugs - and the Doctor succumbed to their power and fell asleep - or as close to sleep as he ever got in her presence._

_TARDIS walked her, step by step, through the basics of disengaging from the standard timestream, as the ship could not do this without prior direct programming by the Doctor or a living participant. After Rose pulled the levers she was indicated to, pumped some handle that looked like a bike part, pressed a number of switches and turned several dials from one position to another, the usual hum of flying in the time vortex filled the interior of the ship.  
_

_"So, what is the difference?"  
_

_'Nobody can see you. Nothing can hurt you. You have a lot of your subjective hours to recuperate. He is already slowly mending. It will take him less time than your body will need to start function properly again. You can stay here as long as you need.'  
_

_So she sat in the kitchen, fixing herself yet another tea and listening to the TARDIS' instructions as to what to do with the Doctor as soon as he wakes up.  
_

_'You should make him stay outside. No going back into Time. We will avoid being pulled in at all costs. No timelines to fix, no people to save, only him and his rest. You should convince him it's better to wait here.'  
_

_"Any ideas, how?" Rose bit her toast.  
_

_'He must want to stay. You should convince him. Give him reason.'  
_

_Of course she could give him a reason. She pondered on it on her way to her room.  
_

_She could maintain she feels ill. It would have several possible outcomes. One - they stay in the Vortex indeed, and he tries to cure her. Two - he brings her back to her mother. Three - he leaves her in the TARDIS and goes for his next mission alone...  
_

_'Why did I even consider these options?' she checked her wardrobe for some appropriate outfit.  
_

_'You are afraid' stated TARDIS. 'You should not. Give him the reason to stay.'_

_He looked much better, but visibly dehydrated. She managed to prop him up a bit and get some water inside him, but not much. He tried to lick his lips, so she gave him another sip of water, virtuously stopping herself from helping him directly with this dry lips problem.  
_

_"Mm. Nice" he murmured, smiling slightly. "That is why I need you."  
_

_"To take care of your sorry ass when you catch common cold and look like a week old corpse?"  
_

_"Nah. To be able to cuddle with you under the pretence of being so weak and helpless, of course."  
_

_"You stinking bas...!"  
_

_He put his finger on her lips.  
_

_"No calling names. And no yelling."  
_

_"Awright. You stinking rat."  
_

_"Am no rat. Am a timelord" he bit his upper lip lightly.  
_

_Rose might have been a good strong girl, but she simply could not let the provocation go unchallenged. She wanted to nip on this lip, taste him...  
_  
"Miss Tyler? Miss Tyler...?"

She breathed convulsively. She almost felt his lips, her own still tingled, just a bit, and her mind rapidly tried to acknowledge the fact that she was indeed in the waiting room, not in the TARDIS. That was bad. And noone was daring her to kiss him. That was even worse. That dream was way too realistic and left her with some unfulfilled wishes.

"That's me."

"Doctor Harker will see you now."

Stupid monthly check-ups. Stupid doctor Harper with his frog face. Stupid, stupid Rose.

At least she wasn't dared to kiss doctor Harper.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks for reviews (and alerts, and the fav!), and here are the next two chapters. Hope you like them :) Any constructive (at least partly) criticism is welcome.


	4. They who dream by day 2

_**Reminder: I added two chapters at the same time, so please remember to read ch. 3 :)**_

"They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."

Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora (1841)

**The Doctor - Sleepwalking**

Doctor strolled the corridor, looking around for his handsomer-than-life companion in order to drag him by his ear and get outside. Jack was most probably enjoying the contents of the fridge or the contents of the DVD-and-other-recordings shelves. He could have asked TARDIS to locate the Captain for him, but he preferred the old-fashioned way. It gave him an occasion to think - something he didn't indulge in lately - and to stop for a moment and recollect.

Jack was indeed in the kitchen, fixing himself a large toast sandwich with layers of lettuce, some - probably named - meat, mayonnaise, pickles - probably not Earth-bought - and tomato. As he chopped the green onions with an ugly-looking curved knife, he looked up and smiled toothily at the Doctor.

"Want one?"

"Nah, don't trouble yourself. I'll fix myself something less complicated. Any of this meat left?" he opened the fridge.

"The container on the left. I did some throwing-out. Don't worry, I consulted with our lady as to what should be left for you, but I wanted to assure there will be no throwing-up after we consume a random product from this piece of antique. Where did you get a lead-lined fridge, by the way?"

"USA, mid-50's. Of twentieth century, of course. Ah, that's the thing!" he pulled out a small round of cheese and a salami mignon. "You said you threw things out?"

"They are all stored in some coldroom in case we didn't identify them properly. TARDIS will show you, I'm going to watch some mind-numbing video-game derived movie. Want to join?"

"I'll pop in later and see if I can understand the plot."

They both laughed shortly and Jack marched out, trying not to loose his hold on his sandwich. Apparently the outing would have to wait.

He sat at the counter and slowly put together a dark-bread sandwich. Last time he did that, in such a calm silence, he was not so calm at all...

_...he was making sandwiches for Rose and himself, all wholegrain bread, no butter, almost no salt. Hers with additional tomato, his with additional pickles and fried onion. Usually Rose did that, almost automatically - she cut up the ingredients when he put the water to boil and chose the current tea-of-the-day, she buttered the bread when he measured teaspoons of tea... - but today she was sitting on the sofa, in front of the TV, with a jug of milk, a glass, and a tin of cookies nearby, wrapped in a woollen blanket and shivering a bit. They were already headed for Earth, but TARDIS didn't want to interfere with Rose's state of health more, so she was taking an indirect route. As any indirect route, it was not much easier, but certainly much longer. At least Rose stopped being sick every time they passed through some time layer and having cramps when TARDIS changed the direction.  
_

_No other companion before had ever displayed such symptoms. Of course, they were from a different time and may have conquered the problem by themselves due to the feeling that as a male he should not be conscious of it. Rose had no such inhibitions and she showed her feelings - and needs, or pain, as in this case - without restraint. So when he walked into the TV room in the time he would associate with her subjective morning, she was wrapped in a blanket, wearing a warm sweatshirt, sweatpants, and shivering. Her face had a slightly greenish hue and the sat there with her eyes closed.  
_

_"Rose? What's wrong?"  
_

_She started at the sound of his voice.  
_

_"'m feeling kind of sick" she murmured. "Dizzy. Cramps. An' me head hurts. Don' turn the light on."  
_

_He sat beside her and checked her forehead, but found it normal, even a bit colder than usually.  
_

_"I'll make you some tea, you think it would help?"  
_

_"Maybe. I need a medicine..." she paused and swallowed. "I used up all I had with me. How soon can we get back?"  
_

_"You mean, your-time London? Subjective two, three hours, no more. You'll manage?"  
_

_"Hope so. Bring me this tea?"  
_

_"Wait here."  
_

_After some tea and a dose of paracetamol-derived painkiller Rose managed to straighten herself on the sofa and even fall asleep. Until the first time layer.  
_

_'Do you think she is really ill?'  
_

_'Yes. No.'  
_

_'Thanks for your help.'  
_

_'She is ill, but it will end soon.'  
_

_'What's really wrong? She never had this kind of symptoms before...'  
_

_'Human female reproductive cycle. Vortex tampered with it. She is... unstable.'  
_

_'You mean, wrong time of the month came at the wrong time?'  
_

_'Yes. More than once.'  
_

_He sat at the console and tried to tweak the course slightly.  
_

_'The Vortex changed her subjective time perspective. She lives day-night time as a human, because she does this partly consciously. But her body works in another cycle. She never noticed this because she cannot properly count time here. Am I right?'  
_

_TARDIS waited for a moment.  
_

_'Probably.'  
_

_'Did you just scan her?'  
_

_'Probably.'  
_

_Girls. Females.  
_

_'Let's get us to London. I feel a shopping trip is coming.'  
_

_Unfortunately it became soon evident that they would need something more than painkillers to stop Rose from feeling as if her insides were trying to march out on their own. As soon as TARDIS jumped through one of the first barriers on her way towards 20th century, Rose woke up screaming and collapsed on the floor, holding her stomach.  
_

_Fortunately his experience with injuries left him with enough knowledge - and supplies - to administer an almost industry grade - or rather, military-grade - sedative-cum-painkiller. After several long minutes, when he had already cursed himself silently for taking such risks with her life and started to work out an antidote, she finally loosened her hold on his hands and looked at him with slightly dreamy eyes. He helped her to sit up, collect herself and even braid her hair to hold it from her face just in case another bout of nausea caught her before she could react.  
_

_"So, now, here is the tea, and TARDIS declares it will take about eight hours if we take it slowly and fly carefully. I don't know how long this drug will work and I cannot guarantee it being harmless - I'd wager it is quite harmful, rather - so I don't want you to take another dose. Is there anything you want, apart from tea?"  
_

_She closed her eyes and hugged herself.  
_

_"I think... I think I threw up my breakfast. And some more. I need my toothbrush and something to eat" she wrinkled her nose. "Not smelly. Cheese and tomato sandwich? We have some of this nice bread left?"  
_

_"Sure we have" he patted her hand and pulled the blanket closer around her.  
_

_So he sliced the cheese and combined everything in several nice-looking sandwiches, he poured some more tea and took it all on a tray to the TV room. She was sleeping, but the position looked darned uncomfortable, so he tried to move her a bit to avoid her neck cramping. She sighed, purred and nestled next to him, with her back to his side and her head just under his shoulder. He hugged her carefully, not wanting to press any painful spots, but wishing to keep her there... just a moment longer...  
_  
"Doc!" Jack's voice woke him up, suddenly, and he realised that he not only finished fixing his sandwich, half-ate it, but walked from the kitchen do the TV room with his eyes closed. And now was apparently trying to hug an overstuffed pillow bought by the Captain at some flea market. "You ok? What are you, sleepwalking?"

"No way" the Doctor answered, biting into his sandwich furiously. "I never sleepwalk. I was checking if I could still get around the place in darkness" he chewed energetically and almost spat. "Who added sugar to my sandwich?!"

* * *

**AN**: 10 points for every person who knows where the fridge may be from.


	5. Swift as a shadow, short as any dream 1

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream.  
A Midsummer Night's Dream I, 1

**Rose - Catnap**

Her work colleagues wanted to go to the mall. Sure, why not. After all, she had a really good job - well-paid job - and a _loaded_ father (who was quite eager to express his admiration for his daughter in any way he could, including the local equivalent of VIP Visa card), so she could probably afford a shopping spree of any kind. But nothing tickled her fancy yet, and they had already been here for at least three hours. She sighed and fingered a pair of male gloves displayed in one of the shops. They would do well for Pete, as he seemed to be constantly losing his gloves, hats and umbrellas, but she wasn't convinced. She knew who they would suit for sure, but tried to think around this thought and make it wait until she was back home.

As the girls moved to te next door and giggled over some silly gadgets in a gift store, she walked to the nearest fountain and sat down on the concrete edge. Her nose ached, so she took off her spectacles - worn to work only (as she knew, spectacles tended to make one look more respectable and reliable) - and put them in her shirt pocket. She actually started to wear shirts, and trousers. Sometimes even nice blouses with some light and subtle jewelry. Jackie, armed with newfound certainty and feeling of being the wife of a really wealthy man, managed to work on her own style and on her little girl's clothes. Both were way more classy than in their own London - money did wonders to one's wardrobe - but also than local Jackie had ever been before.

Of course, nobody told it outright, but some gossip rags noted that since the catastrophe and "close call" Jackie Tyler had changed her taste in clothes to less flashy, less glittery and surely less girly. Also, they mused, having her long-absent daughter back made her assume finally the role of a mother, which explained the 180 degrees turn in the way she dressed, behaved in public and conducted her private life. Beginning with selling all her Svarowski-covered stiletto heels on e-Bay to the parties, which were no more.

The Tylers stopped entertaining at all. Of course there were official events, but nothing was hosted at the Tyler residence, noone but closest friends and chosen coworkers was admitted further than to the gate and the family became way more private than ever before. Combined with reappearance of a pretty daughter and gossips on another Tyler being on the way it made them the celebrities of the season.

As Jackie's pregnancy progressed and Pete was seen getting into his car in front of a clinic, helping his rotund wife in, without hiding behind bodyguards, the tabloids moved on to someone else - and his or hers scandalous behavior on the deck of some love boat - and Tylers could again breathe with ease.

Now Rose could finally walk through a market or a mall without anyone noticing her and trying to pry some information. She leaned on a decorative concrete wall and admired the play of light on the water spouting from the hidden pipes.

There was a man, standing on the other side of the water wall, man of an uncomfortably familiar figure. His movements and gestures made her heart skip a beat, and when a young, dark-haired woman approached him and handed him a sleepy child, Rose's eyes filled with tears. Fortunately he moved closer and into a spot where her view was no longer obscured by the droplets and she could see that his hair was neatly combed back, his built was rather stocky - the water made him look thinner - and his glasses were horn-rimmed, not black. Also his nose was rather... potato-shaped. Her heart constricted painfully as she tried to catch some air and she tilted her head back to ease her breathing. She closed her eyes to stop the tears and forced her face muscles to relax. Her hands rested on warm concrete and slick, wet tiles...

_... she felt him squeeze her fingers. They didn't even have to look at each other - they just sat in the sun, watching the clouds go by and waiting for their bodies to regain some strength and warmth before going back to the TARDIS. She felt his presence acutely, knew without checking when he raked his hair with his free hand, when he fidgeted with the shirt collar or when he checked his shoelaces. It was familiar. She was quite conscious of the fact that whatever she did, he could also guess, in the same way. Familiarity. The effect of watching each other, sometimes in rather cramped spaces, for weeks - or was it months? - now. Of course, since the regeneration she had to remove some quirks from the list - and add new ones - but there were enough similarities... Now he should pat his breast pocket and check for the stone they managed to retrieve, look at it in the sunlight, check the surface - letting go of her hand for a moment - grab her fingers again, even more firmly and say something joyous and absolutely nonsensical about being here and now but having to move, move, move, Rose, we are going..._

"Rose? We are going to get something to eat... Rose?"

"Sure" she smiled, shaking off the remnants of the dream. "I'll have something to drink. Way too warm for me today. Where are we going?"

They found a nice, cosy restaurant with an outdoor table or two, and ordered tons of food.

"So, you finally found something nice?" she asked, conscious of having to interact with her group. "I think I'll get these gloves for my Dad, he lost the last pair on the crash site yesterday. Mum is furious, of course."

"Why? He can afford them, for sure" one of the girls looked curiously at her.

"Oh, it's this thing about principles, you know. She still remembers the times when she had to count every penny. So sometimes, when we do something totally stupid, she goes berserk. It takes a day or two for her to wind down and everything is back to normal, but this gloves thing is her pet peeve. She says Dad just doesn't pay enough attention and one day, when he manages to spend all his money on replacing his gloves she is not going to support him and he will have to count on my charity" she sipped her soda. "So, anything good today?"

"Sure. A sale at the Body Shop. I got a box of Ocean soap, my Ma's favourite. And some bubble bath" Josie smiled widely. "And I got you something for your birthday, Rosie-chan, but I'm not telling!"

"Aw, Josie, spill" Rose reached for the Body Shop bag next to her friend.

"Keep your hands to yourself. You'll see in two weeks. Dori got you something too, you go badger her."

"No way I'm showing this here, Rose. You would not want, I guarantee you. But I got myself a chocolate fondue set I wanted and not as expensive as I saw them in some other shops. And they threw in a dose of Belgium chocolate for the first try, so we shall have a treat for your party. You _are_ having a party, aren't you?"

Rose smiled contrarily.

"Oh, I thought we could go and hang out in some nice pub, look at some nice backsides and get totally trashed. Then we would get to my place, kick my Mum out of the TV room and watch some sappy romance or brain-numbing chick flick. These I have enough to get us quite stupid in one night."

"Good plan, but I got a better one" interjected the fourth girl, silent until now and busy sipping her tea. "We get to _my_ place, as my mother is out for that weekend, some conference or other, and we have our party in one place without moving. The pro is, I got a pub on the other side of the street, so if we feel like some backside-looking, we could make a short trip there, get our fill, and get back to a safe and warm home before we get too drunk. This way we get all the entertainment without any parents noting the hour or trying to set us straight and get us to bed before we wish. No offense to your mother, Rosie, but she tends to treat you as if you were still sixteen. Didn't she notice you've grown up a bit? You know, change of bra size, job, your own money?"

"I still live with them. And it's not like she didn't notice, but she has these protective urges. Even more so since she got pregnant again. Hormones are talking through her. So, you know, I try not to tax her nerves too much, this is eight month and she isn't taking this well. Also, I admit, I sometimes like the attention. It's hard when your boss is your Dad and the only way not to take your work home is to talk about weather at the table, and sometimes even weather is 'work'."

They all nodded. Torchwood employees learned soon that every topic, after careful examination, may be work-related and thus, is many instances, secret. That was why they tended to hang out together - at least they didn't have to watch their mouths so much, even if they were supposed no to talk about professional issues in public places. And they could watch each other, which made the situation a little bit more comfortable.

"That sucks, sure. But you know things waaay before we get out hands on them, don't you?"

"If my Dad told me of them, you would be right, but I usually hear of them in the loading room" Rose smiled slightly. "These truck drivers have big chatty mouths and they feel they should share all the stories from the sites with me when I do the primary search of the load. Dad sometimes learns things _from_ me and before his secretary gets around to showing him the key reports."

They all smiled at the memory of the boss' main assistant, competent, nice, careful but quite slow lady who never managed to beat anyone to the boss with the news.

As she boarded the bus and managed to obtain a window seat, she leaned back and to the right. Her back hurt, her feet hurt, her left hand hurt where she managed to bash it on the glass door when the opening mechanism failed and started to close the door directly on her person. She sat, favoring her left side and looked at the greenery outside. She could have called a taxi, but she simply wanted to do something normal and everyday. And seeing the other girls board their buses she paid the driver and readied herself for a half-hour ride home by the indirect route. The sway of the bus made her a little sleepy, but fortunately not queasy. She let her eyelids drop, but a hard motion of the bus made her jerk awake suddenly, before the dreams appeared. Fortunately.

As soon as she passed through the door to the living room, she felt the day's weariness catching up with her and she could barely crawl towards the couch.

"Mariah?" she called tentatively towards the kitchen door.

"Rosie? What are you doing here, girl? Shouldn't you be out, shopping?"

"I was" she yawned desperately. "But I feel... I felt a bit warm. An' sleepy. Could you..." she tried to gather her thoughts. "Coffee? And wake me up in half an hour?"

"How long did you stay up yesterday?" the cook put her hands on her hips and stared at her with reproach.

"Like... Three? Four...?" she yawned again. "Coffee, I beg you" and she fell forwards on the pillow.

"You just lie here and I'll get you what you need."

"...k you..."

_She was staring down at the crowd milling under the balcony. They were yet unaware of the trouble that was clouding the horizon, but they would soon realize that their world is not as easily controlled as they thought. Well, that would teach them. But to learn, they must survive, and for them to survive, she and the Doctor must finish their quest. And one thing this quest demanded was for them to stay silent._

_He pressed her fingers, once, and pointed towards the vines on the side of the building. They grew in a way reminding of the Earth grapevine, but sturdier and with much thicker branches. She nodded and touched the back of his hand in confirmation._

_They communicated thus for the whole day. The problem was the language. Although TARDIS translated it for them properly, the local society demanded different ways of speaking depending on the social and financial situation of both sides of the conversation and they didn't have enough time to explore and research where in the hierarchy they should place themselves, especially as it was at least three if not four-dimensional. Not too low, nor too high, to be able to move freely but not to draw attention... Apparently the locals noticed you only if you emitted sound, so as long as they stayed silent, they were safe._

_They were back, finally, having searched, found and disposed of a rather ugly, literally underground, problem which would make the local society crumble in a few weeks if not neutralised. All this without uttering a sound, which took its toll on the Doctor. He was holding her hand, communicating even without any signals his level of stress and worry. As soon as they were inside the TARDIS and shut the door safely, she tried to free her hand from his grasp, but to no avail._

_"Let me go" she uttered slowly, looking in his exhausted face. "Doctor?"_

_"I'm sorry, Rose" he inhaled deeply and drew her hand to his lips. "You were wonderful" he added, bestowing a light kiss on her fingertips. "We should land somewhere nice and calm next time. We need vacation, don't you think?"_

_"I think we need some rest now, we can talk about vacation when we think straight."_

_"Right as always" he murmured, squeezing her hand again and rubbing it carefully. "I didn't hurt you, I hope? I thought I was holding you too hard, but I was afraid that if I let go of you I'd never be able to find you again in this crazy place." _

_"You surely wouldn't be able to ask for directions" she joked poorly and they both smiled tiredly._

_"So, rest it is. Do try to get a few hours tonight..."_

"...tonight. Not watching TV, not working, just sleeping, you hear me? No more catnaps, you are not a middle-aged male!"

"Whut?" she tried to see her mother, who was apparently in the middle of a good scolding.

"You are going to bed, now, missy. All right, you may make a pit stop at the bathroom, but no books, no movies,no phone, no laptop. And give me back your PDA!"

"'k, Mum. I'll go in a few. Really."

"I'll wait" said Jackie Tyler calmly and decidedly.

* * *

**AN**: 10 points to **Spamurai** and 10 points to **scifi girl 08** :) Yup, that was the "Indy" fridge, Doctor found it, did some sonic-screwdriving on it to make it nice and shiny and now it's even more durable than originally.


	6. Swift as a shadow, short as any dream 2

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream.  
_A Midsummer Night's Dream I, 1_

**Doctor - Nap**

Jack handed him the last floorpane and he fixed it in place with the sonic screwdriver. Finally, they were done - the floor under the entrance side of the console was safe and the cables were finally running in somewhat ordered way. He knew Jack would be good for something and it apparently wasn't only cooking. _Hah. He's just showing off to my girl, trying to sweeten her. But she's mine, all mine, and if he thinks he may get into her good graces without my consent, he is very much mistaken. Right, dear?_ He patted the railing, leaned on it, testing its stability, and sighed. Rose would have jumped to create more pressure. He patted the railing again...

_...and her fingers covered his in an affectionate gesture._

_"It's good to be home at least" she whispered, looking at the door which have just a moment before closed on a most gruesome spectacle of one group of people trying not to be caught and treated as target for bow practice by other group. Both groups were nasty, vengeful and murderous, so they deserved each other. The only thing they didn't deserve was their planet blowing up underneath their three-toed feet and this was prevented by TARDIS landing in the right time and place for the Doctor and Rose to get their hands dirty with some hard manual work. So now they stood side by side, covered with dust and grime from head to toe and utterly exhausted. He smiled wanly, gesturing towards the corridor._

_"To the bathroom, you stubborn woman. I told you to stay away from this shed, didn't I?"_

_"As if you were any better" she shot back. "I could see your hair stand up and sparkle with electricity when you caught that cable with your bare hand. Get yourself to the medbay and check if you didn't do yourself any damage."_

_"If I did, I would know, you... human. My superior physiology enables me to control the state of my body much better than you with your USG and X-rays."_

_"Yeees? And who got drunk on this liquor bought at the suuk, two or three planets back? _It is totally safe, Rose, I'm sure!_" she mimicked. "And the hangover you had, it was once in a lifetime sight!"_

_"Silent, girl" he placed the cleanest finger on her lips. "Or I will find some appropriate punishment for you. I'm sure TARDIS has some undiscovered room full of dirty dishes, just for you to wash them."_

_"Go to the medbay, you crazy alien" she turned and before he could duck, she smacked him on the bottom. "Tag!"_

He woke up with a start and the feeling that his backside stung a little. Gathering his surroundings he pulled himself up from the floor on which he apparently sat with quite a force and massaged the offended place discreetly. He sighed, straightened, took off the jacket, threw it on the coat hanger and fell backwards, into his...

_..chair. Rose jumped up the steps excitedly, her body still adrenaline-high - he could almost taste it in the air, together with girlish rose-scented perfume, green tea deodorant, the dust on her jumper, the grass on her trainers, her shampoo..._

_"You were great. We were great!" he exclaimed happily._

_"Brilliant!" she smiled widely._

_"As always" he squeezed her fingers and, looking at her still smiling face, pressed a soft kiss to them. "My brilliant Rose."_

_She turned her palm to touch his cheek._

_"My brilliant Doctor" she answered. "But you are nuts, you know?"_

_"Of course. But you wouldn't want me different, would you?"_

_"Never."_

_She reached over him for the last packet of peanuts, sitting on the console._

_"Hey! Stay away from my peanuts!" he snatched it from her grasp._

_"Your peanuts? Your peanuts?! You galactic thief, these are my peanuts, you ate all yours before we left!"_

_"No way. You ate all of yours, woman!"_

_"Give. Me. This. Bag," she uttered slowly, approaching him in a threatening way._

_Of course, he was the winner. By virtue of his longer arms. And some well-placed tickling. So he leaned back on the chair, laughing, and she finally lost her balance, and toppled over him, her head landing comfortably just on his arm, her whole body fitting his almost too well. He reached around her on the pretence of putting the bag down..._

...and touched Jack's shirt, as the Captain was trying to pick him up and save him from sliding all they way down from the chair, to the floor and on, into the opened panels.

"I'm not hugging you for good morning, Doc" he observed calmly. "Not without dinner and flowers the day before."

"I think I need to get to a bed" the Timelord grumbled. "I should stop having naps in this chair, I'm risking my life."

"Use your own, I'm not sharing!"

"Who are you and what did you do to Jack...?"


	7. I have had a dream 1

"I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was."

_William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream (1595-6) _

**Rose - Déjà senti**

She was looking at the new piece of technology the research had salvaged from one of the "uncontrolled contact with the ground" places and trying to understand what might be the meaning of all these small indicators, circles and dials. She breathed deeply, closed her eyes and put her hands on the surface, opening herself to the structure and she felt herself slipping away, just a bit aside from her surroundings. The sounds vanished first, then the smells... She breathed slowly, trying to spread her palms as wide as she could to reach all available surface of the object. There were some knobs and switches there, almost familiar, as if she had already touched this, or very similar control board. But no finger-tingling, no intuitive movement showed up. She raised her hands, shook them loose for a moment and approached the board from the other side. Perhaps she was just looking at it upwards down?

Three hours still didn't give any information, either factual or imaginary. No suggestions from her subconsciousness, but the eerie familiarity of the "thing" was getting on her nerves. She sat in her deep armchair, crossing her legs and looking angrily at her desk. She was angry. And her nerves had seen better times, too. She was...

..._close to tears. And suddenly she groaned inwardly - this one she knew and recognised as a really bad dream. It started well enough, with some basic how-to-fly-a-TARDIS instructions, but ended in tears, slamming the door and feeling down and inferior. He was making fun of her, she knew it, just knew it, and he was standing there, with this foolish superior-life-form smile on his face and... and suddenly he was standing just behind her, his hands covering hers on the controls, guiding her to do things slowly, calmly and carefully. His breath tickled her cheek as they silently co-operated, his hands guiding her, and she submitting to the teaching. She began to understand - or at least to feel a bit closer to the understanding of the idea - and she relaxed, just a bit, and managed to finally draw a breath. And stopped moving, at once. It wasn't him. It was... him... Her mind performed a somersault. It wasn't black leather - or black jumper - that he was wearing. Actually, it wasn't the brown coat or pin-striped suit either, but a delicate pale-blue shirt that he sometimes wore with the suit. This didn't... this didn't make sense... but somehow, in a very convoluted way, it was good. Of course she was attracted to Nine. Hell, who wouldn't be? Her mother was... Perhaps not a good thought. Concentrate on the controls, girl, you know it's a dream, but you can make the most of it. Ooh, his cologne..._

_She actually felt light-headed in the dream. And she could think – double-think actually. One level was still dreaming and was approaching absolute bliss in a brisk pace, the other was observing the first and second-thinking. Analysing. And trying to merge with the first one in order not to ruin a nice dream._

_Actually, it was becoming quite... intense..._

_Hopefully the dream Doctor didn't notice the goosebumps his breath created on her skin, or her catching breath or the fact that she was trying very hard not to let herself relax and melt into his arms. She savoured the feeling of his chin on her right arm, of his fingers upon her own and let her eyes close._

_The TARDIS flew silently and calmly through the space._

She woke up, her head still a bit light and swoony.

This dream ended differently last time. Oh, the new ending was an improvement - but still left her with tears in her eyes and a heartache.

-+-+-+-

The TARDIS flew silently and calmly through the space as the lingering traces of female hands disappeared from the main control panel.

* * *

**AN**: Sorry, today two short ones. But I hope you like them :)


	8. I have had a dream 2

"I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was."  
_William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream (1595-6) _

**Doctor - Déjà vécu**

The Doctor bit his lower lip and inhaled deeply. He was _not_ going to look. No way. Jack was preparing something at the stove, _dancing_ around the kitchen and humming "I'm too sexy". No way. No. Bad mental image. _No_.

The problem was, Jack wasn't doing it on purpose. He just was. The idea of Jack Harkness, the very essence of him made it so that he didn't even have to drop any sexual references to create tension. He _was_ one living, breathing - and humming! - sexual reference.

The Doctor groaned. This was not the line of thought he wanted to follow. Actually, no line of thought was really attractive lately. They tended to digress towards Captain Jack or towards his dreams.

Dreams were yet another topic he wished very much to avoid. Since Jack came abroad, he experienced a rising frequency of real - or day - dreams. Way too realistic, sometimes altogether too well entwined with his memories for him to be sure that they were simply productions of his overactive - and superior! - mind. No. They were _only_ projections of his wishes and other could-have-beens. No more. In full daylight - or at least in whatever TARDIS supplied as daylight - he was completly conscious of what was memory and what was imagination and falsehood. Unfortunately, in the hours of darkness, when Jack finally succumbed to his human-body habits, when the TARDIS was doing some introspective work and didn't take notice of him, his doubts emerged. In this time he was never really sure what happened - not anymore.

Jack prodded the meat on the skillet with an oversized fork and started stirring in tomato juice, still humming - at least he didn't sing off-key - and wiggling his butt.

Doctor shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on something else. Dancing... when was the last time...

_...Jack and Rose were laughing, and he wanted to show these two kids that being a timelord doesn't make one a fossil, no matter what they might think. So he asked the TARDIS for a song, shed his coat, threw it over the railing and grabbed Rose's hand, pulling her close in the rhythm of some random tune._

_"You are missing a rose, Gomez" she smiled at him when they performed a bend-over and her leg swept up in a gancho._

_"A rose?" he led her in a giro and a quick volcada. "Gomez?"_

_"Did you choose the music, or did you ask the TARDIS to pick a tango for you?" she almost tripped on some loose flooring, trying to perform a barrida._

_"I... asked, yes."_

_"So ask her now for the movie."_

_Her eyes flashed as she tilted her head back in the next step and she smiled again, this time pursing her lips a little._

_"Will you watch it with me?" he held her closer._

_"Any time you wish... And now as you have ruined my shoes - and my toes - could we sit down?"_

He shook his head to clear it of the swirling images. There was something wrong. Something didn't match.

_...shed his coat..._

It should have been a leather jacket. A black leather jacket. Not a brown coat. And he wasn't wearing a jumper, he was...

He bit his lip again.

It was way too realistic for his liking.

-+-+-+-

Rose woke up with the feeling of someone stepping on her toe-tips. They hurt.

* * *

**AN**: If someone is wondering, all definitions for the chapter titles may be found in Wikipedia. The same for definitions or descriptions of tango steps.


	9. I could be bounded in a nutshell 1

I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.  
_Hamlet_ II, 2

**Rose – Nightmares**

Rose Tyler never admitted she could have nightmares. Of course, Jackie Tyler and the great kitchen of the Tyler Residence knew better – both having seen the at her worst and even worse sometimes. Jackie soothed her quivering nerves with copious amounts of honeyed tea – now that they could afford the best blends available, they certainly took pleasure in a cuppa – and the kitchen itself was re-done after they moved in in some not easily described way which transformed the food-processing-and-plates-washing space into a secondary living-room (much to the cook's amusement). Now there was a second, quite smaller fireplace, just to make the room more cozy, a wooden table and matching chairs with cushions, beige tablecloth with delicate patterns and always waiting teapot and jar of honey on a wooden tray, with three cups ready. Each of them had their own chosen cup – Pete having the big, clay one, Jackie - the out-of-set white porcelain with blue flowers and Rose – one painted with telephone boxes. They came into the kitchen at different hours, all of them needing some support at one moment or another.

So, Rose didn't call them nightmares, but to every other human (and some non-human) being they were nightmares, all right. If someone falls asleep and then cries, moans and tosses in their sleep only to wake up with a scream which would wake up all their old neighbours – then this is a nightmare.

Rose would then go down to the kitchen, sometimes remembering to put on her slippers or dressing gown, but usually just in her shortish, pink-and-yellow spotted pyjamas or even shorter blue gown, sit next to the fireplace, throw a few pieces of wood more and brood. And, by some telepathic means, one of her parents would wake up, wander to the kitchen, pour tea and ask. And she even sometimes told. Sometimes, though, she just looked at her mother with sorrow, and then Jackie would hold the blonde head to her shoulder and help her daughter weep herself into peace – or at least a temporary silence – of her mind. If Pete was the one to come down one of these nights, he usually wrapped Rose in an additional blanket and sat her in the one armchair available in the kitchen and wait. When the sobbing stopped, he could usually get a word or two from his "daughter", and a piece of the infinitesimal puzzle with The Doctor in the middle again found its place. Making room for a few new ones.

Rose dreamed of escapes, of runs and blow-ups, of shootings, fights and betrayals, but she only woke up crying from two kinds of dreams. One of them featured Cassandra as the main actor. The other one – well, after them, she cried for lost chances.

_He was sitting in front of a large, flat-panel display and watching – of all things – a love flick. In fact, it was 'Love Actually' he was watching, the very movie he kept joking about her drooling over only a day before._

_"I see" she murmured, propping her elbows on the back of the sofa. "You are one soft-hearted Time Lord."_

_"Know thy enemy" he answered, not looking at her. "I wanted to understand what you girls see in it. Perhaps if I watch it once again with all the additional scenes put in, I'll be able to 'get it'."_

_He turned to look at her face and smiled with this one-of-a-kind, timelordy smile of knowing everything._

_"I hoped you might find your way here. Would be more interesting to watch it with someone who understands."_

_His lips were mere centimeters from hers – as a moment earlier she was whispering right into his ear – and he seemed not to notice the breathing problems she had just developed. So she took the matters into her own hands by seizing his neck and massaging it carefully as she brought their lips together. He tasted of tea, and gingerbread – now she knew who was guilty of the cookie jar being empty – and something else, which made him different from the guys she kissed in the past. And, to her astonishment, he was kissing her back, ever so delicately. They slowly broke the contact and she stared at him, his eyes half-closed, his breathing just a tiny bit faster and his lips still parted._

A truck hit some loose bit of metal somewhere nearby. She sat up suddenly, her eyes burning, her throat hoarse and her cheeks already wet with tears.

* * *

**AN**: Sorry for not posting during weekend - I was away from my precious PC... Unfortunately, as I see how the next part is coming it might take some time before I post again. So, here you are :)

**AN2**: There is one little plot bunny following me, as I am ab-so-lu-te-ly traumatized by s4x13, so I'll have something short, sweet and with lots of reunions soon.


	10. I could be bounded in a nutshell 2

I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.  
_Hamlet_ II, 2

**The Doctor – Lucid dreaming**

From what Jack could get the Doctor to tell, the Time Lords' superior psychology and physiology had some interesting traits. Like an ability to discern immediately if one is currently dreaming or no. Lucid dreaming, it was called, and the Doctor prided himself on being always sure not only where and when he was but also if what he saw was reality or product of his overactive imagination.

But this took some time, at least a few seconds. As they were usually wake-induced lucid dreams, they would fit almost perfectly into whatever had been happening just a moment before and thus would wake no doubts – at least at first – as to their being real. Sometimes Jack would find the Doctor looking through half-closed eyelids at a console, which at the moment displayed either gibberish in Gallifreyan or simply gibberish, and talking to himself. Apparently lost in his daydreams, of course – consciously.

So, as the Doctor stressed over and over again, he _always_ knew if he was dreaming or not. Sometimes, though, he chose to ignore it and let the dream carry him away. Sometimes he really _wanted_ for this to be reality and _didn't want_ to remember it was only a dream. So he chose not only to ignore the fact that he was dreaming, he chose not to check.

Jack strolled into the TV room, a can of Coke in one hand and an overlarge dish of popcorn in the other. He plopped on the sofa and placed the popcorn between himself and the Doctor. One look at the alien told him to stay quiet and not disturb him – his eyes were half-closed, his lips – mmm – moving and his glasses were pushed up into his hair. Either he was doing some time-and-space arithmetics or he was dreaming about Rose again. Jack could sympathise, he certainly dreamed about Rose – and the Doctor – enough to be able to relate.

_He was watching whatever Rose left in the DVD reader the evening before and it was beginning to look quite good. Even though everybody looked to be in love with someone (sometimes recently passed away), it was still good._

_She came, silently, and said something, but at first he registered only the fact that his hair stood on its ends as her breath bathed his skin. Then his mind processed the words and he was able to reply, at least partially reasonably. **Then** he was finally able to turn to her and look at her – from quite a short distance – and he calmly invited her to join in, under the pretense of getting to understand the love threads. As he watched her expression soften – from a small smile of I-am-making-fun-of-you to a delicate, new smile of... of something else – he noticed her breath catching, and he froze. He shouldn't have, as she took the opportunity – and his head – into her own hands – and he was lost in the world of Rose, of minty chocolate she filched from the cupboard, of honey she laced her tea with and of something fascinating which made him finally shake the astonishment and kiss her back as he had wanted to for quite some time already. When she broke the contact – poor humans and their breathing requirements – he didn't dare to open his eyes and look at her._

He opened his eyes and looked at Rowan Atkinson being a difficult plane passenger and letting the kid get through the gates. Then he noticed Jack, casually slouching next to him on the sofa.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there another can of Coke? I think I need something cold."

"Sure. But perhaps you should take some ice."

"Why?"

"You look as if you have bitten yourself. You're bleeding."


	11. Dreams are extremely important 1

Hi to everyone who kept waiting :) I know it's long since I updated this story, but I got a terrible case of a writer's block some time last year and only writing some totally different pieces got my mind clean enough for me to come back to this.

The current plan I have is that I'll have 24 chapters (equals 12 per character) in this story. I hope I can fit into this with all the plot I have.

We'll see :)

Thank you everyone for your comments, I hope you like THIS chapter. All typos and errors are mine, please feel free to point them out for me.

Dreams are extremely important...

Dreams are extremely important. You can't do it unless you imagine it."

George Lucas

Rose - Sleeping gas

As Rose was skipping on one leg, trying to pull her trainer on the other one, Pete was shouting from the car that they were going to be late and Jackie was trying to use her no-nonsense voice and get her daughter to eat _something_ for breakfast, they simply relived everyday morning routine of the Tyler residence. Everywhere around the world parents shouted at their children, people were getting late to their offices and young women tried to get slimmer by not eating the most important meal of the day. None of them, except the Tyler family and a few others, were expecting - or at least knew they were risking - an alien encounter or even interplanetary communication. Every day.

What Rose was not expecting, usually, was getting poisoned. As the Torchwood personnel were routinely vaccined, immunized and tested agains numerous illnesses and toxic substances, nobody cared to remember that the treatments were not perfect and the laboratories were still learning.

On this specific Tuesday they learned something new.

Rose unfastened her seatbelt as soon as Pete's car stopped by the storeroom side entrance and literally jumped out of the vehicle, catching her bag at the last moment.

"See you at the lunch, Dad. Love you!"

"Don't be late, Rose. Love you too."

And she run down the stairs, to the room where the technicians placed the freshest, most exciting and yet untested objects collected recently.

"Good day, Miss Tyler, please enter the code" the guard handed her the number pad.

"Good day, Thomas."

She shrugged on her lab coat and strolled to "her" table, where lab assistants were piling the most interesting - at least superficially - gadgets and started digging through it.

From the very beginning of her work in Torchwood, ever since she "came back from school" and was introduced to the staff as the boss's daughter and new lab rat, Rose was lucky. On her second day in the stores, almost as soon as she was appointed her pile of "trash" to sort, she found a power unit which the research department could disassemble, reassemble, copy and mass produce in a matter of weeks, providing easily recharged portable power cells of high endurance. In the following month she was recognised as a human-form-alien-gizmo-detector and promoted, rather rapidly, to an independent position in the organisation. Of course, some begrudged her the fast-track career, but everyone knew (if not admitted it aloud) that it was both earned and most certainly dangerous position. She still went into the front lines, as everyone in Torchwood would in the time of crisis, she held one of the Rift Keys, which enabled her to unlock the power in Cardiff, she talked to the aliens, she explored the crash sites with her father and... and, as this day, she touched the fresh load with her bare hands.

Because it was the only way she could work. No gloves, no matter how thin, let the "touch" through. So she closed her eyes, held out her right hand and let it slide over the accumulated goods. As her assistant was watching, she picked a pen-like container and held it to the lamp.

"Gwen, where did this come from?"

Gwen flipped her PDA open and scanned the list.

"11 cm, metalic, tubular... Ah, yes. The western airport collision last month. They are still cleaning up the debris. It was delivered yesterday, Anna thought it looked unscratched and you might get something from it."

Rose weaved to the short, washed-out girl at the next table.

"Well, it certainly looks... whole. No marks, no indentations..." she put her thumb on the end. "Just click and write" she pushed the end jokingly and suddenly let go of the cylinder, as a drop of blood appeared on her finger.

"Blasted thing has a needle in it! Gwen, alarm one. Anna, everything from this batch, isolate. Shit!"

The object clattered to the ground, as Gwen was ordering everyone else out, out, out, and it started twisting, as if until-now invisible rings were separating and uniting again. A faint whistling noise was heard as it laid still finally.

"Gwen, Anna? Everyone clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Guards?"

"Station three coming to us in a moment. What is going on?"

"The thing frigging... bit me? Injected me? _Took blood sample???_"

Suddenly the room seemed a bit darker.

"Is it smoking, Gwen?"

"Ma'am?"

"It's getting dark here, but I don't see any smo..."

She was out before they managed to stop her fall.

_She felt as if a truck had run her over._

_"Doct'r?"_

_"Rose? Oh, Rassilion, Rose, finally..." he flipped the screwdriver on and flashed a little light at her eyes._

_"Pupils not reacting properly. Damn."_

_"Wha'?"_

_"We hit... we hit something. Don't worry. Jack and I will take care of it. Just... Just don't you worry, ok? Stay here, be still, I put TARDIS to play something for you... Don't fall asleep, ok? Wait for us. Please."_

_He disappeared._

_Her head felt as if it was stuffed with lead wool. One huge bump on the left side and probably some bruises everywhere else, too. But she would sit here. Her two favourite spacemen will take care of everything. Must have been something big, to hit TARDIS so._

_She was feeling a bit faint and tried to lean her head a bit further back, but she hissed involuntarily and suddenly there was someone behind her, supporting her neck and head with steady, strong hands into which she could simply slide and feel all confident that she will be caught._

_The Doctor appeared in front of her and checked her pupils again._

_"We have contained the problem, so we can move you now. Captain, Are you holding her securely?"_

_"I sure am" rumbled the second sexiest voice in the known space. "Now, lean on me, Rose-girl" he caught her more firmly. "We're taking you to the infirmary."_

_She felt Doctor's hands picking up her legs and both of them moving her to a stretcher she hadn't noticed before._

_"Now, on a count of three! One, two, three, up!"_

_And suddenly they were in the infirmary, and Jack was holding her head again and the Doctor was moving his sonic screwdriver around the back of her head..._

_"Do you know how to make a blonde's eyes light up?" she joked weakly._

_"No, tell me?" Jack moved her hair aside as the Doctor picked up some splinter that got stuck in her skin._

_"Put a flashlight to her ear" she chuckled quietly, trying not to move too many muscles. "Ouch!"_

_"That was the last one" Doctor allowed her to roll back face up. "How's the head?"_

_"Pounding" she complained._

_"We need to keep you company today, I'm afraid. Jack here is ready to drop - he may be tough, but not that tough. So, Captain, off with you - sleep, eat, take a bath. Not necessarily in this order. I'll stay with Rose and talk to her - she shouldn't fall asleep at least until I'm sure the swelling has gone down. Shoo!"_

_Jack smiled, not looking even one bit tired, and strolled out, rolling his sleeves down and fixind the cuffs._

_"So, what do you want to talk about?" Doctor sat next to her bed and looked at her intently._

_"Tell me..." she stopped. "Tell me about Earth. What have you seen on it?"_

_He pursed his lips and took off the glasses._

_"Well... let's see. As my third self, I had a car. I named her Bessie..."_

_She was conscious, but wasn't listening to his words, rather floating along the tone of his voice, that incredible, induplicable timbre. __**The**__ sexiest voice in the known space._

_Finally, he stopped, looked at her, as she stared at him, trembling internally from the emotions that washed through her now._

_"I think we can safely move you to some more comfortable location. Please, lead me to some room I could put Rose down in."_

_In a few minutes the situation stopped being funny as they faced the same door again and again._

_She didn't care. The double beat of his hearts was enough to calm her down. As he finally gave up and put her down on the cool covers, she could only roll onto her side and curl up. She didn't notice his turning up the cover or putting her underneath._

_She could finally fall asleep, feeling so tired that she could _barely lift her head and look around. The oxygen tent over her suddenly felt constricting and she started hyperventilating.

The sounds of general evacuation seeped through the walls of the ambulance and suddenly there was someone next to her. Ah. Good. A Torchwood medic. Nice girl, this Martha. Good doctor and something of a visionary when it came to alien physiology.

"Do you hear me? Nod or blink."

Rose blinked, afraid of moving within the tent.

"Good. Do you know who I am?"

Blink.

"Good. Now, I'm going to take a blood sample, look at your finger and then you'll be shipped to the medical facilities of Torchwood in Liverpool. They are going to analyse the bloody gas you freed and detoxify you. Afterwards you'll stay, quarantined, until they can be sure there are no lasting effects. I'll be joining you, don't worry. I'll explain them what they need to know. Your coworkers here are trying co catch and analyze the substance you freed. Don't worry. We'll sort it out."

She inhaled slowly and her head cleared a bit. She was covered with something. Something nice, soft, and utterly, completely, alien. Also, to her, quite familiar.


	12. Dreams are extremely important 2

Dreams are extremely important...

Dreams are extremely important. You can't do it unless you imagine it."

George Lucas

Doctor - False awakening

Jack stood at the console, trying to recall the last lesson on steering the TARDIS he received just a few hours before. Doctor, who had recently progressively became more introspective, brooding and quiet, has left him to his own devices and declared he's going to the library to do some research.

'Research, my ass. Of course, he's researching. His own dreams...'

The Doctor was, indeed, researching. Something has been bothering him lately and he just couldn't quite identify the feeling that wandered along his spine - he would never admit he had a gut feeling.

But he had. And every time he managed to get some precious time alone (TARDIS being occupied with Captain's flying and Captain being occupied in not crashing them) he attempted a bit of meditation. Supposedly to work out what the hell was bugging him. Of course it had nothing to do with the repeating dreams of Rose he usually managed to catch when he tried this. Not at all.

He was now sitting on the comfy sofa in the middle of the large reading room, his suit jacket lying in a heap together with his shoes and cufflinks (he already knew they disrupted some energy flows, also, cuffed sleeves were uncomfortable). He had carefully placed his legs in the lotos position and was humming quietly, working himself into a trance.

_His mind relaxed, he felt his connection with the Vortex strengthening and his scope of view expand fluidly._

He was still sitting there, trying to find the element in the surrounding reality that started getting on his nerves lately when he heard voices from the corridor, a discussion, followed suddenly by a crash, a lurch of internal gravity of TARDIS and a scream.

A female scream.

Very well-known female scream.

He tried to rise, stopped to untangle his legs, and run towards the noises, stopping only to pick up his screwdriver.

TARDIS was emitting damage reports and complaints about things appearing where they should not be, but he muted her down, concentrating on finding the source...

Ah.

Rose, lying motionlessly in the corridor. Just next to some nasty-looking piece of railing, on which she probably bumped her head and acquired this large bruise that was now coming to view on her cheek.

He ran back to the reading room and retrieved his jacket. The only way to support her head now was with something soft, he should have taken... Well. Here she is.

He scanned her neck and as much of the spine as he could reach, but found no internal injuries that would have prevented him from moving her a bit. He lifter her head onto the makeshift pillow and placed her comfortably. Only when he was sure she would not slip back on the floor, he attempted a waking-up.

She looked at him, but as he expected, talked nonsense. Never mind, she was here and he was going to save the day - of course, with a little help from Jack.

With a little help from Jack he also managed to move Rose to the infirmary, to examine her and to process the results. Finally, when the man was swaying on his legs and apparently only his male pride and honour were keeping him up, the Doctor kicked the human out of the infirmary and back into his room.

They talked and he told her a story and then he carried her out and into - as he planned - her own room. Unfortunately, TARDIS had other ideas, so he ended up putting Rose into his own bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and looked at her as she nestled deeper under the covers, still holding his poor old suit jacket.

He tried pulling up his legs on the bed, but lost _his balance and _woke up to a feeling of a carpet in his nose as he was lying on the floor of the reading room. Hah. He dreamed about waking up, AGAIN.

Jack standing in the doorframe and smirking didn't improve his mood.

But when they found out that his jacket was indeed, missing, they were both equally weirded out.


	13. You may say I'm a dreamer 1

**AN: Hi everyone. Sorry for taking so long, bu RL is doing lots not to let me write. Today only the "Rose" chapter. Hope to get the other half ready soon, but this one is 3000+ characters so should be a bit of reading.**

**Let me know how you like the whole thing and please point out any absolute and idiotic mistakes you find.**

**~~~~~~DWDW~~~~~~**

**You may say I'm a dreamer**

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."

John Lennon

**Rose - Sunstroke**

Jackie wanted Tony to see the sea. So she pressed everyone around into the organisation "committee" and forced Pete and Rose to take a week of holiday, naturally at the same time.

Of course, Pete took the week off. And, quite as certainly, Rose tried to find some big reason not to. It's hard when your boss is your - more or less - father, who is trying very hard to please his wife and the mother of his only own child. Not that Pete ever voiced that aloud, but that was the truth. As much as he cherished her existence, supported her, advised, funded her education and officially introduced her as his daughter, Pete needed a child of his own. And from this Jackie he got one, and if everything the doctors said was true, he could get a couple more - Jackie had nothing against the notion. So now there was his not-quite daughter and his very much own son... Both from the same pair of parents with more or less the same genetic makeup...

_I feel more like very-much loved niece. That's actually good - I know my dad and he was anything but successful. Pete is something like his better-planning brother. An uncle. Yup. I have to remember to call him "Dad" at any public venue, but... Did I just think "venue"?_

She put her head on the cold surface of her desk.

"Rose, you all right? Ready to go home? Jacks will be furious if we delay the departure any more."

"Do you really need me there? I mean, you take the nanny, the night-nurse, the tutor - why does this kid need a tutor already? - and you will be both free to do anything you want. Like, a honeymoon. Why take me? I will get underfoot..." her voice trailed off as she looked sideways at the photo, standing on the edge of her desk.

"Come on, Rose. You didn't have to pack, you don't have to plan or remember about anything, only to take your credit card and this here" he pointed to said photo "and you are ready. You will have lots of sun, get some tan, have a nice swim when you wish and buy any crazy seaside souvenir you see. I will even buy one of these string-bikinis, if any of them tickles your fancy, and make your mother be quiet on the topic. Just come."

"Are you trying to bribe me, Pete?" she smiled crookedly.

"Kind of. You know Jackie wants to air Tony a bit, and she wants to do it with both of us, too. Also, I want her to have a bit of vacation, she seems so intent of getting everything absolutely right, and she will never relax if she knows you are at work. Come to mention in, neither will I" he grinned at her widened eyes. "So? You know that after this poisoning nobody will let you near anything even remotely resembling physical work."

She sighed with frustration as he hit exactly the problem she was trying not to think about.

"Just a moment."

She picked up her backpack - no fancy handbags for her, bad for running - threw in her wallet and the photo frame from the desk.

Pete gave it to her on her first local birthday - he got his secretary dig up the security recording from the party and get the best shots of Doctor - preferably Doctor and Rose - extracted, enhanced and copied into the new Vitex patented electronic photo frame. The first working frame was sitting on his own desk, holding several minutes of a slide show of Jackie, Tony and Rose.

So, Rose had her plastic money, her frame, her packed suitcase (thanks heaven for servants) and her backpack, everything was loaded into the waiting car and transported quickly to the airport where efficient and well-muscled staff moved it, together with many other suitcases, into the private Tyler zeppelin as she was handed into the sitting area by Pete.

"How is the plane design and research going?" Jackie asked finally, after setting Tony down in his safety seat. "It would be much faster than these... blimps. And I still don't feel very safe in them."

"Don't be so impatient. I want to have the first working prototype running for the next year Vitex Week. It would make a proper main exhibit" Pete smiled to Rose affectionately. "And it would never have came to be without you and Mickey."

"More Mickey than me. He was the plane geek all this time ago" she lowered her seat. "I only had a dozen or so miniatures, but his room looked like an exhibition. He could spend half his wages in this one shop near the Estates."

"Well, here he gets to play with the big stuff."

"I hope your designers can keep up coming with proper solutions. After all we can't have our planes running on twisted rubber bands" she yawned.

"Here, a blanket, miss Tyler" the assistant handed her chequered afghan.

"Do you want your tea now, or after your nap?" his name tag said 'Andrew, Junior Team'.

"Now, thank you, Andrew. And the toast, too."

"Of course."

She watched as he walked into the kitchen area, but her eyes didn't see the white suit and shoes but brown stripes and plimsolls...

"Stop ogling my staff" Pete hissed. "They are off limits."

"Aww, dad. Why? I don't touch them, they won't break."

"Yea, but if you look at them too much they might start imagining things."

"Like?"

"Like being the Vitex Princess' Consort. And this is something I don't want even to consider."

She smiled mischievously.

"So, who would you imagine as your son in law?"

He tapped his lips in thought.

"He should be smart. And I don't mean good-looking, but some brain."

"OK, must be smart. What else?"

"Should have some dependable job. Or at least means to support you. Independent or freelancer is good too, but only if he can afford living on some reasonable level."

"Money. Hmm."

"Should be educated. Street smarts are not enough. And, possibly, some technical area. Engineering, land design, heavy machinery, electronics... anything. Programmer or network administrator might be. Should be handsome, if only to make sure my grandchildren have both sides of the family to inherit from and we don't have to depend on them getting only your looks."

She snickered sleepily.

"Well... Should read, be able to talk to people, outgoing and sociable would be nice, but if you find a quiet type I won't kick him out. Should dress for the occasion. Or at least be amenable to taking fashion tips. No tattoos, please. At least not in publicly visible places. No piercings in unusual places... Or, again, in unusual but generally visible."

"Mmhm."

"And he must love you, girl" he whispered. "And you must love him. So my choices are rather... narrow."

Jackie sat next to him.

"Tony's asleep."

"Rose too."

"Children."

Rose stretched on her blanket, all shiny from freshly-applied sun lotion, and covered her head with a straw hat.

"Rose, have you seen Tony's sunblock?"

She opened her eyes sleepily.

"In the sandwich cooler. And your lotions too."

"Thanks, love. Now, little man, I have to put this on you again and if you squirm so much, you will get burnt!"

Jackie was firm believer in high factor lotions and sunblocks - one fair-skinned, sunburn prone child was enough to convince her that it's better to be pale than red. And no way something like this was happening to her precious son. Oh, no.

Pete pulled a laptop out of his bag and set it carefully on a folding table.

"I'll check in with the office and see if there has been any emergency in the last 24 hours. Hopefully rift is staying stable..." he trailed off, furiously typing on his keyboard.

Rose laid her head on her t-shirt-made-pillow and sighed. _Workaholics. Gotta be one of them to believe._

Yawn.

Sand looked quite pretty from this short distance. Private stretch of a beach, somewhere in Italy, all fenced, guarded, clean and pristine...

Yeah. She could get used to this life. Almost.

She could accept totally new line of work which her "father" arranged for her, she could accept a nice, spacious house, even though she grew up in two-rooms flat, she could accept the bodyguards, discreetly hovering around her on almost every outing, especially in holiday season, when photographers got really nasty about catching her in some stupid situation. She could almost accept everything her "father" had given her - new brother, education, happy mother, stressless life... except for the fact that she would never, ever leave this planet. She was, for all the work she did with aliens and alien artefacts, grounded. Due to the fact that global transport was based on zeppelins, the approach to interplanetary missiles was different than in her world. Unfortunately neither she nor Mickey could really help with this - none of them was ever interested in sputniks, space shuttles or rockets. Of course, they could draw a symbolical rocket or sketch a sputnik - more or less -- but the Torchwood/Vitex designers preferred them to focus on airplanes.

_Yawn._

Yes. Almost used to. Full family, even with a 20-years-younger brother. Silly, cute little thing. Too cute for _his own good._

_Oh, he is cute when he pouts._

_She sat in the control room, trying not to giggle, as Doctor stared at the main column with a... pout. Yes._

_"What is wrong? Did the bad, bad TARDIS take your bowl of pudding?"_

_He scowled even more immaturely and finally stuck his tongue at her._

"_Ooh, bad Doctor. I'll make you stand in a corner if you do this again" she leaned back on the captain's chair, propped her legs on one of the armrests and sipped from her bottle of something-very-much-like-coke. "Now, what happened?"_

"_She says she's stuck."_

"_Where?"_

"_That's the problem. We have only one information - it's cold out there. Additionally, we haven't recharged lately, so in order to keep her calculating abilities, TARDIS will have to cut down on heating."_

"_We're gonna be cold?"_

"_**You**'re gonna be cold. I can stand much lower temperatures than humans. So, instead of sitting here and poisoning your system with this bastard child of caffeine and carbon dioxide, you'd better go to your room and get as many warm things as you can."_

"_This might be a problem" she said, putting away the bottle. "Remember the accident with pink dye? Well, after this I gave all my cardigans and whatnot to Mum, to take to dry cleaners. I have a jacket and an afghan."_

_Doctor sighed and rubbed his face._

"_Bring everything here. We'll shut down all unnecessary parts and ask TARDIS to move kitchen nearby. We can camp out on the floor here. Move!" he aimed to swat her arm._

_She ran, squealing, into the corridor and to her room. TARDIS was nice and moved it close, but Rose still didn't manage to come back to the control room before she saw her breath condense into thin mist._

"_Put it all there and get under the covers" he pointed to a nest of bedding and covers next to the central unit. "Heat from processors will help a bit, too."_

"_Where did you get these?" she touched the exquisite silky pillowcase._

"_My room. I'll bring yours, too, in a moment. Now get under blankets and stay there!"_

_'Huh. He's practically ordering me to get into his bed' she dropped her trainers next to the impromptu bed and slid under the covers. 'Not that I would protest, mind you.'_

_She laid there, watching him run around the central column and adjust things. Her eyelids were closing and she dug a bit deeper under the covers to keep warmer. She breathed in the fragrance of his cologne, lingering on the sheets and smiled. He was still using that bottle she bought him a handful of planets back. Nice. Sexy. Mmm... 'Just like him. Ooh, nice view here.'_

_He turned suddenly as if he heard her thought._

"_Now, Rose, it's all set, and as soon as TARDIS can calculate everything we need... Are you going blue?"_

"_Not that I know" she answered sleepily. She heard her own voice shake a bit. "I'm ok, I think."_

"_Uh-oh" he bit his lip. "Not good. You ARE blue. And sleepy, yes? Wait. Don't fall asleep until I come back" and with this he run out of the control room._

_Rose let her head fall back on the wonderfully fluffy pillow and blinked. Blinked. Blin..._

"_I told you not to fall asleep. Now, sit up, up, up" he was sitting next to her, a small mountain of sheets and another of food beside him. "Now, open your mouth, don't take your hands from under the covers. And here is something to cover you" he draped a blanket over her shoulders. "Now, open nicely and let your Doctor feed you something with sugar. You'll need it."_

_She blinked again and opened her mouth obediently and he spooned some chocolate-brown stuff from a plastic jar._

"_What's this?"_

"_Terran origins, don't worry. Picked it up some time ago in Eastern Europe. Something like custard, but waaaay better. Be a good girl and eat up."_

_So she swallowed a spoon, and another, of a gooey, chocolatey and terribly sweet pudding, only to be hand-fed some fudge, banana pralines ("Bananas are good, Rose!"), sun-dried apricots, chocolate-covered raisins and helped to a cup of coffee._

_Although it felt somewhat weird, she felt herself getting warmer. For more than one reason._

"_Now, still sleepy?"_

"_Naw. Just full" she licked her lower lip and watched his reaction. He blushed._

_'Ah-ha!'_

"_Come here. You must be getting cold, too" she moved to a side, making a bit of room for him. Not too much, of course._

"_Better not. I'm still colder than you and I would bring your body temp down."_

"_So I'll wrap in a blanket, but I feel colder simply by looking at you, sitting there, on this cold floor" she pouted prettily. "So?"_

"_Oook" he finally sighed. "But wrap up well and stay under the covers."_

_He sat up and removed his converses and suit jacket and slid in beside her._

"_Now, turn a bit, I will watch you, so you can actually get some sleep now. I'll wake you up if I notice something wrong."_

_She laid on her left side and felt him spooning behind her and encircling her with his right arm._

"_Sleep, Rose. I'm here" he whispered into her ear, blowing the hair aside with his breath._

_She tried to relax, but the warm feeling inside her was growing. Especially as his hand laid on her hip and was making small, unconscious, but extremely arousing movements._

_'Ah. Move it lower, you alien. Now!'_

_Unfortunately it seemed to have no effect on the Doctor, as he decidedly moved his hand up, to her waist, and hugged her even closer._

_He was cold, yes. And at the same time, she felt as if she was burning in the spots where he touched her. His hand was exactly an inch below her left breast, almost brushing against it every time she inhaled. The most exquisite torture she ever experienced and her torturer was totally oblivious to her predicament._

_She tried moving strategically down a bit, but his hand held her firmly and she didn't even manage half of the distance, so she simply sighed and settled down on the pillow. She was immediately rewarded by his leaning over to her ear and asking in low voice "Are you comfortable?"_

_She managed only to nod slightly and she felt his lips connect for a slightest moment with her earlobe._

"_That's good" he let go of her waist and fixed the blanked around her a bit higher. "Sleep, Rose. Time will past faster."_

"_I can't sleep" she protested quietly. Somehow his whispering made her avoid all louder sounds. "You have pumped me full of sugar and now I'm... I can't sleep!"_

"_Shush. Lie down and the sugar will let you sleep."_

"_No" she finally moved and turned round. Her hands flew up, to his face and she reached for him, opening her lips, when a trickle of cold air wandered down her back, making her shiver. She tried to control it, to hold longer on this dream, because by now she knew it had to be a dream, and she held him and pressed her lips to his in a desperate attempt to make him understand..._

_..._her body convulsed on the soft beach towel and immediately two muscled bodyguards were beside her, trying to hold her down. One of them pushed a rolled-up piece of her own t-shirt into her mouth, to prevent her from biting on her tongue as they carried her towards the shade.

Rose was lying on a soft field bed, hastily set up for her in the zeppelin and Peter Tyler was sitting next to her.

He left his wife and son under good care of his staff and he would be joining them as soon as he managed to deliver his daughter to the Torchwood hospital and get her proper care.

His daughter. He felt his heart constrict. Rose was his daughter, no matter what anyone said. The other Pete Tyler may have fathered her, but she was just as much his daughter as the other man's.

He understood what it meant the moment he looked in Jackie's eyes. Tony, held securely in the wrap-around infant sling, momentarily forgotten, and the daughter she lost already so many times the only focus of her attention.

Rose brought this Jackie to his world. Rose was the reason he got another chance in life. He was going to do anything to give her her own chance.

He would never see Jackie lose her again.


	14. You may say I'm a dreamer 2

**AN: This is the Doctor part of the previous chapter. I'm sorry for taking so long, but lately no writing is coming easily to me.**

**~~~~~~DWDW~~~~~~ **

**You may say I'm a dreamer**

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."

John Lennon

**Doctor - Hibernation**

Being shut in a situation of no exit was one of Jack's greatest fears. He would die here. Doctor would die here. Of course, the Time Lord will last longer per life – better respiratory system and cold resistance – but after three deaths, he'll be truly dead forever, whereas he, the fixed-point-in-time guy will die over and over forever.

They sat in a cold, icy cave and didn't look at one another. Neither of them dared. They had already been through the phase of senseless activity, ingenious ideas on how to get out, attempts at calling the TARDIS, attempts at climbing walls – Jack sported a huge bruise on his knee – and the usual phase of placing the blame.

Jack sniffed slightly. Damn it, resetting with a cold. Damn.

The Doctor inhaled deeply.

"We must do something."

"We've already tried" Jack answered levelly. "I guess we've tried most anything."

"Yes. But not absolutely everything" the Doctor was searching his pockets. "We should eat anything edible we have and try to slow down a bit."

"What?"

"I have a feeling that I have at most next ten to twelve hours of life, if I continue like this. And, in these conditions, I won't be able to regenerate properly, I'm afraid. Last time I needed... Well. It was warmer in London at this time. Even though it was Christmas."

"So, what do you suggest?"

"I suppose you know something about meditation or yoga" the words were a bot clipped, as if the Doctor's teeth were clenched tight. "If so, you should know enough about slowing down your metabolism and getting into a trance."

"How long do you suppose you can stay this way?"

"In this body, no less than seven months, unless the conditions change drastically."

Jack licked his lips.

"Do it. I will stand guard."

"You crazy?" the Doctor raised one brow, trying to find a good spot for sitting.

"No. Someone has to look out for dangers here. I can reset in any conditions. Been there, done that. More than once. More than healthy for my mental stability, surely."

"So you shouldn't do it again soon, should you?"

"Well, I see it like this: we have a higher chance of survival if you meditate and I stay awake than the other way round, don't we? And we need someone awake here just in case a greater catastrophe is waiting to happen."

The Doctor had to admit, although grudgingly, that Jack was most probably right.

"So, you go on and go your yoga thing and I'll have a small walk."

The Doctor shrugged finally, as the Captain was actually right.

"Don't wander away too far, Jack. Don't want you to get lost."

"I'll never get lost here, Doctor. Would be hard to. Even so, I may be absent when you come to – for any reason" he sat down next to his best – and probably only, at this point – friend. "So, I'd like you to remember something after you wake up."

"What is?" said the Doctor drowsily, as the chemicals he released into his own system were starting to take over and slow his organism down.

"This" came a whisper in Jack Harkness' voice and soft, cold lips touched Doctor's. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, two breaths, five heartbeats, whole eternity. "Remember, I'm here."

His eyes couldn't keep focus as he tried to concentrate on the pillar in the centre of the ice cave in which they became imprisoned because of what the locals thought of two single men travelling together. The pillar was slender, half-transparent and somewhat glassy...

_The light was moving slightly up and down the central console column as he observed it with dread. It was cold, it was already getting to him. He had to think about some clever solution or he and Rose will die here of hypothermia._

_Rose was sitting there, just next to the main console, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and other warm covers, looking progressively more and more blue. He tore himself away from the TARDIS' reconfiguration display and managed to feed Rose as much sugar as her system could take._

_She was a bad, bad girl and she was going to..._

_Ow, she was licking her lips._

_He was hurting._

_She was saying something. Moving around in the blankets and... inviting him in? Did she go crazy or what?_

_Finally, he agreed, and they were lying, hugging closely, only a thin blanket between them to make sure she wouldn't get any colder because of his nearness. He placed his hand on her wonderful, soft and enticingly rounded hip_ _and marveled at the sensation. Very carefully, feeling like a teen on a first date, he moved his hand up, to keep her closer to himself. His fingers itched to be surrounding something nice, rounded and firm, something tipped with a nice, stiff nipple, something that he could almost feel brushing against his hand every time she inhaled._

_She also squirmed. He felt her moving a bit around, this bringing her into a position where her luscious behind pressed even more firmly into the front of his trousers._

_He longed to move his hand - either higher up, to the wonderful, full and heavy breast, just an inch from his palm - or much lower, to dip his fingers inside of her and make her feel like she never felt before. Would be a good idea for warming up, too._

_He managed to ask her, finally, about her comfort. Also, advise her to sleep. If she slept, he would have to remove his hand and find something productive. She was way too active. probably bad idea to pump her with all this sugar, but it was the only way to keep her up and warm._

_Ah, yes, active. Now she was turning round and reaching for him and kissing him so wonderfully, so sweetly, It literally made him swoon and he actually managed to lose his balance lying down on the floor. He felt himself fall backwards... _and backwards...

"Shit!" he heard, uttered with obvious frustration. "Doctor, wakey wakey! The cave is melting and I'd rather not drown, so please do WAKE UP!"

His eyes shot open and suddenly he noticed a cold trickle, running down his back and water filling his converses.

"What the..."

"Apparently, the spring came. Or something. Anyway, the ice IS melting and we HAVE to be ready for whatever happens now. As soon as the ceiling has enough holes in it, we may be able to climb there and see how far from TARDIS we are."

He stretched slowly and looked at Jack's drawn, slightly gray face.

"How long?" his feeling of time was only now adjusting to the long stand-by.

"My watch says eight days. No idea what it is in local time, but I'm not going to stay around long enough to find out, if I don't have to. So please, let's try to go a bit higher and get as far from this place as possible. My claustrofobia isn't as pronounced as some other people complain about, but after being buried alive for an extended period of time, I somehow like open air."

Doctor swallowed hard and tried to force his body into action.

"Very well. I'd much rather get to TARDIS and check something. There was... I had a dream."

"A Rose-dream?"

After all, Jack _was_ the only one who could relate on any level.

"Yup. And I have a feeling that there is more to these dreams than just random brain activity."

"And how are you going to check it?" Jack was preparing his line and hook set in order to throw it up, as soon as appropriate supporting spot could be find.

"If there is a set of bedding, or a curiously warmer place, or... well, I'll see. If anything of these checks out, it means these are not really dreams. And if so, I want to know how this happens and if we can make use of it in any reasonable and safe way."

Jack looked at him over the partly coiled rope.

"Reasonable and safe?"

"It _is_ Rose we are speaking about. She will make enough trouble by herself, no reason to add to it. I'd much rather get her whole and conscious, so no way I'm risking now."

They entered the TARDIS slowly, both quite unwilling to check the spot where the makeshift bed would have been. Both fearing any outcome - as either the Doctor was going even more mad than he already was _or_ they would have to investigate the matter and deal with the distinct possibility that Rose was, indeed, abandoned in the universe next door for no reason and could have been brought back already.

Finally Jack made his way around the console and bravely forced himself to take a look.

There was, lying crumpled on the steel floor, a single, sand-encrusted blanket and a red, flower patterned, flip-flop. Size 5.

"Doctor?"

The Timelord inhaled deeply.

"So?"

"It's definitely not the bed you described. But I have a feeling that someone _was_ here. Somehow" he picked up the brightly colored jandal. "Someone was having fun on a beach."

His friend snatched the object from his hands and run a quick diagnostics over it with his screwdriver.

"I need to..." he trailed off and run another setting. "Hah!" he picked up something and moved it to a highlighted area on the console. "Sand! I can check where it came from..."

"Wherever it did, there's more of it here" Jack picked up the blanket. "Also, I'd check it for any skin residue. Would let us know who was using this pretty blankie lately, wouldn't it?"

The Doctor's eyes brightened.

"That's more like it! Gimme!"

**~~~~~~DWDW~~~~~~ **

The blanket that went missing after Rose was taken into hospital was replaced immediately by the waiting staff. Unfortunately, they found only one of her flip-flops, but as it was, nobody expected her to be going to the beach any time soon.


	15. A dream itself is but a shadow 1

**A/N: **Picking this up after a break. Have some 13 half-chapters planned ahead, a few written, but not the next one, yet. Hope to have this completed by chapter 15, tops.

**A dream itself is but a shadow.**

_A dream itself is but a shadow._

_Hamlet II, 2_

"Pete, have you seen the headlines? I think I'll stay at the office, take a sleeping pill and lie down on the coach..."

"Even though they are practically accusing you of being an addict?" Pete lowered his glasses. "Maybe you should take a cab home and have a quiet afternoon there? Jackie is out shopping with Tony, there should be nobody but Theresa around."

Theresa, the maid-and-sometimes-cook was usually cleaning up at that time of the day. Rose would have been delighted to hide in the Tyler Mansion and take advantage of Theresa's baking skills, but unfortunately her day was a bit more complicated than a usual Monday.

"May be a problem here" she moaned and flopped herself backwards on the stuffed chair. "Have you had w look from your window recently? Last two hours or so?"

Pete blinked, stood up and peeked between the blinds.

"Are these...?"

"Reporters, yep. Paparazzi, they called these in our world. I always pitied celebrities - I know, I know, it sounds stupid for a shopgirl to pity princesses and singers - that these guys hounded them 24/7. Well, now I know how it feels. If you want to ask, it sucks. Yesterday one of them was shooting photos of me eating ice cream with Tanya, and today they managed to cook up an article about me having munchies. A week ago they managed to find traces of white on my coat. Tony's milk became cocaine I throw around so carelessly I got my coat covered with it. And someone actually bribed a pharmacy assistant to get to my list of purchases and pulled the syringes and needles from it. How I'm supposed to snort cocaine, smoke mj and shoot myself up with heroine at the same time _and_ still be able to stand straight, I have no idea. They have their theories, main of them being you're providing me with alien tech that reduces the normal symptoms."

"Do you want a team to escort you out?" he asked finally, after swallowing the first quiet curse. "They should be no match agains properly trained bodyguards."

"And have tomorrow half of the newsstand filled with my face and speculations about my mental state? 'What did Rose Tyler do to be thrown out of her workplace and taken out by armed escort?' 'Vitex Princess gets wasted at work, security measures taken' 'Torchwood head of development developing new symptoms'" she snorted and threw her arm over her eyes. "And the fact that my eyes got totally hypersensitive to light isn't helping, especially when someone points these big, nastly flash lamps at me."

"Did you have this checked by doctor Harper?"

She peeked at him from under her arm.

"Are you kidding? He would only perscribe another relaxant. Look how well I did after the last one."

He sighed and nodded shortly.

"I'm taking one of the 'safe' pills, and crashing on my coach. Let me know when the vultures go away."

'Safe' pills were tested and, in fact, worked most of the time. When she needed to get through several hours of doing nothing, she just popped one and drag out her pillow and blanket to her office's couch. Couch was a wrong term for that piece, as it was comfy, straight and properly soft like a folding bed. But it would sound wrong if she had a bed in her office, so couch it was.

This time, well, the sleep wasn't coming. She started walking around her office, putting various tiny pieces of equipment in order - a battery, a stylus, a pencil... She spotted something on the floor and _picked up a beautiful, pinky-white conch. Shaking off tiny, perfectly white grains of sand, she put it to her ear and, just for a moment, allowed herself to drown in the sound of ocean, both the one several feet from herself and the one closed in the conch._

_She turned towards the water, topped with white foam and a few surfers and shaded her eyes with the free hand. Someone was trying hang gliding over the shore - more than one someone - and next to them, she saw a kite, with its long tail of ribbon bows. She watched with apprehension, trying to gauge the distance between the freely flying kite and the hang gliders, but they seemed to be perfectly safe._

_Hearing a motorized engine, she turned left and saw a small plane, coming low over the water - ah, a seaplane, probably the coastal guard, and behind them, a speck of blue - police plane? No, it wasn't the right shape. A chopper? It didn't have the top blades._

_'Is it a plane? Is it a bird? No, it's a TARDIS!'_

_She smiled and waved with the free hand, but it allowed the sun to hit her eyes, and she _grimaced uncomfortably.

"Miss Tyler? Miss Tyler!" the big security guard was staring at her with slight uncertainty. "Miss Tyler, the journalists are gone, we can go now. As soon as you're ready."

She licked her lips, tasting the salty residue from the sea wind.

"Sure. Sure. I'll be up any minute. Just... let me find my backpack."

"Here, Miss Tyler" the second guard handed her the black object. "Can we go now? Before they gather somewhere else?"

She stood up, a bit gingerly, and smiled.

"Lead on" she quipped. "Let's hope they are not waiting around the corner."

The bigger of the guards smiled nastily.

"They sure aren't, Maam. We convinced them it's not a very healthy area."


	16. A dream itself is but a shadow 2

**A dream itself is but a shadow.**

_A dream itself is but a shadow._

_Hamlet II, 2_

He was still analysing the damn sand.

Jack stood patiently in the door to the laboratory, trying not to make any "come on, hurry up" noises and mostly succeeding. Doctor, anyway, gave up.

"What?"

"We need to make a stop for food. You've been after this poor cup of sand for the last two or three days. Leave it, we're going shopping."

The Doctor rolled his eyes expressively.

"And don't you do this again, or your face will freeze like this" Jack strode inside the lab and grabbed Doctor's hand. "I'm going shopping and you're coming with me. If nothing else, for the simple reason that you complained for two days about lack of pears after my last trip. Now, my dear lady. Get us to some nice, seaside town, preferably with human-edible food, a mall or a fruit market will be a plus. We'll be staying at least for a day. He needs to get some air."

Of course, nothing could be that easy. On their approach to the planet, TARDIS went out of Vortex high in the air and followed an airplane (into which they almost crashed) over a big stretch of water. Due to their close proximity they were able to observe (and prevent further problems with) a sizeable rift in space that the airplane almost flew into. The passengers turned out to be local notables, heading towards the local equvalent of United Nations.

As both transports headed towards the land, grateful thanks from the pilots' cabin in Jack's and Doctor's ears, the Captain was making the shopping list and Doctor preparing to land somewhere possibly inconspicious near the beach.

Jack's smile and abundance of local credits bought them fresh fruit, samples of local cheeses and a sack od vegetables, which they brought into the TARDIS and dumped in the cold room. Even when they were finished with this task, Jack didn't allow the Doctor to shut himself in the lab yet again, but bodily dragged him towards the stretch of sand which bordered impossibly, audaciously even, blue water.

The Doctor sat on a boulder, jacket over his shoulder, and surveyed their surroundings.

"Did you know that the water in the local seas has universe-wide fame as beauty products source? It has a perfect combination of salts and flora, making it a prime mud masks basis" he smiled lazily. "Local girls are known for their beauty and swimming skills - even the poorest ones can afford to dive for the ingredients."

Jack shot him a suspicious look.

"You want to get rid of me, or what?"

"Naah, just sayin'. Don't mind me."

He leaned back and threw his head back, looking at the beach sidewalk _border upside-down._

_A flash of pink and blue between the trees, and a head of blonde hair, and..._

_He froze in place. She was here. She was HERE, he was not dreaming about it, she simply was here, just twenty steps away. And suddenly she was whirling around, looking at the sea and he felt the universe _hiccup_ and she wasn't there and then anymore, she was there and thirty minutes before, and his timesense whirled around him, making seeing her one of the most nausea-inducing experiences in his life (up there in the top three, including Jack Harkness being brought to life and his own 6th regeneration) and he was seeing her watching TARDIS land_ and Jack's face as he shook him back to consciousness.

"You went and took a stupid pill? You could get sick, watching..."

"Rose was here."

This had the power of shutting up Captain Jack pretty quickly.

"You're kidding."

"No, she was there, between the trees, when we were landing. She saw the TARDIS, waved at it, and disappeared. I swear I saw her."

His companion sighed and closed his eyes in an exaggerated gesture of 'you-must-be-joking'.

"How come you saw her **now** if she was there half an hour or so ago?"

Doctor blinked. He was still seeing some things that looked stuck in the wrong time. The trees which were moving in the wind and standing still at the same time. People who never came out from the trees they disappeared behind. Dog that barked without opening its mouth.

"Jack..."

"Yeah?"

"We're getting out. There is something wrong. With me. Have to get back to the TARDIS. **Now**."

The urgency in Doctor's voice spurred Jack into movement. In seconds he was holding Doctor's jacket in one hand and supporting his stumbling friend with the other. As soon as they stepped through the door, Doctor knelt, holding one arm over his head, as if trying to keep his skull in place.

"What is happening?"

Bloodshot eyes looked up at Jack.

"If we're lucky, something that will pass. If we're not, something permanent. If you're not a praying man, Captain, some would say it's a time to pick up this habit. Crap. My head is spinning and I see things split in time. As if my eyes worked in different times."

He blinked, first both eyes, then each of them separately.

"Rassilion, this is not good. Actually, I see only two things in the same way. Good luck is that one of them is TARDIS."

Jack picked him up and started slowly walking towards the medbay.

"The other one?"

Doctor hiccupped and screwed his eyes shut.

"You. But, on the other hand, you sound as if you were synced with a delay. I hear what you say, but I don't see you saying it. At least I'm not getting cross-eyed looking at you."

He was propped on one of the beds and Jack brought the diagnostic station to check him out. When he was trying out the fourth reader, a soft chime sounded.

"TARDIS finished the analysis I had her run before we left. She could economize on out not being here and by shutting down most of her systems, shunted most of the power to the lab computer" Doctor licked his lips. "She's found... Ogh, yeah. Nice one" his eyes opened and he stared at Jack. "The sunscreen on the sand. It's been... Oh, dear. It's been causing me to hallucinate. Well, as much as a Time Lord can. Which, in our case, means seeing across time without conscious control. Raised my body temp and sent several senses into overdrive."

Jack sat down suddenly.

"So this means you have actually seen her, or not?"

"I have. I just don't know from when. It felt like half an hour, but..."

"You can't really be sure, because your internal clock was messed up by this suncream contents?"

"More or less. Anyway, I need a massive dose of potassium now and some tannins. And proteins. I need to cleanse my system" he swallowed a bit nervously. "Can't pilot in this state, you know."

"You want some bananas or tomato juice, a cuppa and a slice of ham?"

The Doctor's smile was somewhat sickly, but he nodded slightly and fell back on the pillow.

'Rose was here'.

:Yes:


	17. I talk of dreams 1

**A/N: Thank you, whoever is still reading this. I hope I can pick this up and have it finished soon. Unfortunately the muse comes and leaves as she wants (doesn't even eat the chocolates I keep for her).**

**If you see any errors (in the usage of words/phrases OR a typo that a spellchecker didn't catch), send me a PM. I'm open to all concrit, don't worry about my delicate feelings (I don't have these). Unless you diss the whole idea of this story, I can work with that and it helps me to improve, so hey, come and let me know I mixed something up. Too many years of corpo-English may be harmful to one's vocabulary.**

**I talk of dreams**

I talk of dreams;

Which are the children of an idle brain,

Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.

_Romeo and Juliet_ I, 4

**Rose: Meditation**

Three weeks after the attempt at vacation, Rose's condition was described as "satisfactory". She apparently didn't suffer any "adverse effects" of her "episode". Even the newspapers stopped blaring about her supposed drug addiction, especially after the catastrophe at the débutante ball (one based on two dresses being identical and one of them getting slashed with a bread knife).

Rose, with her satisfactory condition, was now reclining comfortably on her bed, made with high pillows and bottle green cover, trying to somehow manage her _ennui_. Boredom was making her want to do something, anything, even though most activities were forbidden - and some were strictly forbidden - in her state of health.

She tried to drown her excessive awareness in several mindless pursuits, starting from reading Jackie's stack of romance novels, through reviewing lab results and ending on watching soap opera channel. Each lasted no more than a few hours and her restlessness already showed in the way the house was thoroughly cleaned, the books stacked and restacked in both library and living room, Tony's toys cleaned and fixed, where needed, and now she was trying to force herself to finally lie down.

Inside something was pushing her to go, to do, to create or destroy, to simply act, whatever the act itself would be, to change things, maybe to discover, to-

Her breath came in short gasps when she finally managed to calm down. A panic attack, caused solely by the limitations of her own body, sped up her heart rate so much that she felt her pulse drumming into each cell of her system. Watching her palms slowly pulse white-pink-white-pink-white she counted, with watch in the other hand, 15 seconds, 30 beats. 120 per minute. Still a bit too quick, but if this was what she could gain when she calmed down, she wasn't going to try for a slower one. Definitely not wanting to get worked up again and do some irreparable damage to herself.

The "episode" was finally ascribed to an overwhelming allergic reaction, almost on the brink of shock, to some specific chemical compound found in her sunblock. Fortunately Tony had no sign of these same problems, even though his lotion came from the same brand. Anyway the series was being recalled from distribution and customers were crowding the company's chain shops, demanding their money back.

Rose stopped Pete from suing the company, reminding him that none of them wished her to be studied and checked for specific reasons for reaction. She herself had no idea what might have caused it - whatever happened in the previous years might have redone part of her immune system to the level which would not tolerate substances normally not harmful to humans.

She lied back, trying to purge her overclocked brain of everything, but each time she finally managed to achieve the blissful level of relaxation which granted her only the abstract view of kaleidoscopic spots, spinning slowly on glittery black background, something intruded into her absolute peace, starting with an overexcited squirrel outside her windows.

Finally she had her windows shut, curtains drawn, doors closed, Theresa away in the kitchen and not checking on her every minute, mobile phone muted and the landline disconnected. And the nice, glowing black was back in her mind, swirling with jeweltone sparks and spots, slowly spiralling towards the centre and suddenly he was there, turning, turning, turning towards her, his _smile, his hair, his glowing eyes, and the black was fading, slowly fading, and it disappeared somewhere in the wall or in the floor or in him or in her and he was talking, at her, actually talking..._

_"...and it should be somewehere around this corner. I'm pretty sure I left it there, just let me have a look. You can put yours on the floor there."_

_They dumped the books they were holding unceremoniously on the huge central table. After having carried them through half of the library they were already dusty, and when Doctor climbed yet another ladder and started to browse the top shelf, they discreetly dusted each other off, giggling over Doctor's mutterings._

_"Ah, yes. Just as I thought. We have to make a few more turns" he slid down the ladder, holding a banana in one hand._

_"Are you going to eat it now?" she burst into uncontrolled laughter, not really knowing why._

_"By no means, Rose. It's a sign and I don't eat signs."_

_He snorted._

_"A sign? Doctor, who could be leaving you bananas as signs? Your previous self?"_

_Doctor looked a bit hurt at this supposition._

_"Of course not. It would have spoilt if it waited that long. Well, it could have, depending on when he would have left it. But no, definitely not. One of my fellow Librarians left it there, letting me know he took the book. Ook."_

_They both blinked._

_"Just wait here and I'll be back in no time at all."_

_They stared in the small corridor he entered, but couldn't even hear his steps anymore._

_Rose felt there was something very, very wrong with her eyes. Whenever she tried to look at her companion, her sight slid to one side. She knew there was someone there, but the aversion towards looking at him - definitely a he - was so strong she couldn't even focus properly to think about his name. Before she could go deeper and analyse her feelings, Doctor was back, holding a whole bunch of bananas, three books and a pointy hat._

_"Good chap. Terribly useful with high shelves. I envy him - never needs a ladder or a stepstool. Well. I have what I needed, and now we should set up the working area. ..., go to the kitchen and bring me the biggest pot we have."_

_When he addressed the man next to her, she couldn't even hear the name and she felt her fear-anxiety-nervousness-revulsion rise and a burning sensation flared up in her middle. Suddenly she was bending in half, jaws locked and she saw his eyes darken and widen and his hand was on her arm, holding _her up and shaking her slightly.

"Rose? Rose? Are you awake?"

Pete's voice got through to her consciousness.

She tried saying something, but gagged on her dust-dry tongue and shook in a silent shudder. Finally she managed to nod and breathe shakily.

"You're going for a check-up tomorrow" her mother's words were short and sharp. "No more sleeping pills for you, my lady. Day and a half asleep is way too much."

She blinked and nodded, trying to stop the world around her from swimming.

She didn't remember taking any pills.

**Ending note: 10 virtual bananas to anyone who can name that other librarian.**


	18. I talk of dreams 2

**I talk of dreams**

I talk of dreams;

Which are the children of an idle brain,

Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.

_Romeo and Juliet_ I, 4

**Doctor: Narcolepsy**

Jack stood in front of a fairly high-strung Time Lord and demanded, openly and directly, to be heard.

"As long as I'm here as a passenger, I don't want to spend my days considering the chance that you will get us killed. Not that it is a problem - I can buy most supplies anywhere we go, but restarting hurts."

Doctor finally gave in. He promised to teach Jack _proper_ TARDIS flying, as the method used until now wasn't working (probably due to TARDIS reacting a bit sluggishly to Jack's commands). Now he was paying for it.

"The first thing is to understand properly the time-space phenomenons we may come across. Now, you as a Time Agent should have had at least a basic course on this, but I suppose your studies would have been more in area of regulations and practical application. On Gallifrey they taught us to _feel_ the time and to read from that feeling. First you need to understand what various things you might feel - or see on our girl's sensors, as your human senses may be unable to catch some nuances. Afterwards I will show you how to interpret the printouts, screen readings and, if we manage to, will get you at least a tiny smattering of Gallifreyan. I have to warn you, human brain may not cope well with that."

"I have lots of free time" the captain joked drily. "I can cram when we're out in the vortex."

"So" the Doctor rubbed his hands together. "Let's go bookhunting. You will have tons of reading material before we finish today!"

This sounded like a threat.

In four more hours the heap of books started resembling a small hill and Doctor wasn't stopping.

Doctor was, in fact, fascinated by the idea. Finally teaching someone to fly his ship, maybe refreshing his own rusty skills and checking, just in case, if everything was working as it was supposed to - apart from chameleon arch, which he knew perfectly well was working by now, with Jack helping with the repairs.

One thing was missing, which was the main primer on multidimensional geometry of closed areas.

He was a tiny bit tired already, but that book had to be somewhere here. Shaking his head he turned to _them and suggested they just pile the collected books anywhere comfortable. Both got rid of their burden by the next table and looked at him expectantly as he climber the ladder. He heard their giggling and his hearts jumped a bit, trying not to look at them before he gets the jealousy of his face._

_Fortunately he found a distraction and an aim - he had to visit an old friend to retrieve the book._

_Of course, they made fun of him. As if Ninth obsession with bananas was anything to laugh at. Heroically he left them there, between bookshelves, still trying to get rid of accumulated dust from their hair and clothes... _Stop that line of thought, you idiot! They are just friends!

_Their conversation quieted as soon as he made the second turn._

Three down, one across, three up, two zobrax and third yellow bricked doorway on the left.

_They exchanged silent greetings, three books were returned and a bunch of bananas changed hands - the Librarian kept his stores of fruit on the top shelf of the History of the Ice Giants bookcase._

_As Doctor was leaving, he recalled something and turned back, handing his friend a rolled-up copy of "Modern Book Conservation" leaflet. In return, he was handed a modest but still significantly pointy hat._

_When he finally got back to them, she looked a bit unfocused and he saw her head jerking as if she tried to look at their friend and just couldn't. Even as he strode towards them, talking lightly about where he just came from, he saw her body spasm and jerk, so he dashed to her and tried to hold her immobile. Suddenly her head came up and smacked him right in the chin and he _shook his head and recoiled from the impact.

"Doctor! Doctor, are you OK? What were you... were you walking around with your eyes closed?"

He drew breath with effort. Feeling slightly weak, he felt around for the object he collided with. Finally focusing his eyes he saw one of the bigger containers, slightly sticking out of it's shelf, just enough for him to walk into it and hit himself right in the face.

"I think there's something wrong" he uttered finally. "I think I may be getting ill."

Jack looked at him with suspicion.

"Was it a Rose-dream again?"

Doctor sat more comfortably with his back to a stack of books.

"Yes. But they seem to get more... more in line with the reality. The first ones were completely disconnected, seemed like dreams. Later they started to be flashbacks of something we did... then corrected flashbacks and now they fit in seamlessly into what is before them. I can't even start to guess they _are_ dreams, the only indicator is that Rose appears then. And, to tell the truth" he sighed heavily "even when I notice her, I order my brain to suppress the thought of this being a dream."

Jack sat across from him and propped his elbows on his knees.

"Why? Do you just want to hold on to any contact with her, even like this?"

Doctor scratched his head, leaving his hair in worse disarray than ever before.

"Probably. Yes. But not only. I hope... I hope at some point I can find out what exactly is happening. Some of them just are, but remember, we have that blanket and flip-flop. And they were hers, definitely. And used on a beach in France. And I lost one of my jackets, so I suppose it might have gone the other way and she has it now."

Both sat in silence for a moment.

"Maybe you should get checked out? I know there's nobody who could help you, really, but maybe TARDIS can check your vitals, to make sure we're not missing... well, maybe if we tried, we could get her here permanently?"

Doctor's eyes brightened.


	19. To die, to sleep 1

**A/N: Thank you, everyone who stayed with me so far :) We're closer to the end than to the beginning and I hope to have this wrapped up in 3 more double-chapters.  
**

**Will be posting Doctor's part in a few hours.**

**In case anybody wonders: I assume that in different realities the same people would gravitate towards similar life choices. Thus Owen and some others showing up around Torchwood.**

**I'm not one for "comment or I won't continue", but I love feedback (and concrit!), so give me a shout if you like or totally detest this story :)  
**

_**Warning: nudity. But of the best quality ;)**_

**Chapter 10 **** To die, to sleep**

To die, to sleep;

To sleep! Perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause.

_Hamlet_ III, 1

**Rose: Benzodiazepines **

"We have no idea" the frog-like medic stated. "Your blood results are good, maybe only the iron levels are a bit too low - you could benefit from a change of diet, Miss Tyler. But in the behaviour tests I see overall slowness of response, drop in the general awareness and significant problems with concentration. How do you feel in these areas? I know that the poisoning with whatever it was - hopefully someone will identify it - might have affected your brain processes, but nobody could have predicted that the effects will last that long."

She pursed her lips.

"I'm afraid I'm not sleeping very well lately" she answered finally. "And then during the day I can't focus on text, I have to read the same sentence three times... It's as if I could not take any more knowledge in. I just can't work like this..."

He nodded, chewing the tip of his pencil.

"Your performance will be, I'm afraid, deterioating. I'd say you should take at least three weeks of vacation,but you Torchwood freaks wouldn't recognize vacation if it came up close and spit on your shoe."

"I already have taken a week. This seizure came on the first day... What should I do, go home and watch TV all the time?"

He scratched back of his head in thought.

"Let me think... I'd suggest you take a dose of this" he scribbled on a notepad "and simply stay at home. Read or listen to music, no watching TV - the blinking pictures may have adverse effect. Stay as long as you need. I'm putting you on a prolonged sick leave."

She sighed.

"What does it do?"

He looked up at her.

"The medicine. What does it do and what does it contain? I'm allergic to some drugs, so I'd rather not add asthma or spots to the whole mess."

He recited the ingredients slowly, watching her nod at every name.

"Very well. Here's your prescription. Pick the stuff up in the hospital apothecary. They will be expecting you."

_Bedside manner from hell. How did he became a doctor?_

Dismissed, she stood up and slowly walked to the door.

She fell backwards on her bed and looked at the label. Of course the booklet inside the box was thicker than the capsule holder and she totally disregarded it, only taking a look at the "adverse drug reactions".

_Lots. Aw, hell._

Of course she got at least half of the list of these. Her throat was sore and somehow constricted, _her left hand was a bit stiff and she would have sworn someone had wrapped her brain in cotton candy._

_She got up quietly, putting the cover back over his sleeping form and sneaked out to the corridor. She more felt her way forward than saw it - her brain still working on low power, eyes not quite catching the details, ears..._

_Someone was singing._

_The voice carried along the corridor with firmness, self-assuredness and openness of a professional singer. It was a rich, strong but surprisingly mellow tenor which reminded her of something, but she couldn't quite place what._

_Before she made a conscious decision, there she was, standing in the door to TARDIS kitchen, the most homey room on the whole ship._

_Lights were low, but the stove lamp was lit so she could take in all the peculiarity of the scene - a pan full of scrambled eggs, a stack of half-burned toast on a plate, a butter dish and, in the middle of it, singing "Can you feel the love tonight" into the whisk, dancing and making wild gestures was a dead man. Naked._

_She apparently stood there for a bit too long - took some time to analyse her observations - because he turned._

_She saw the perfect face, slightly tousled hair, sculpted muscle and the infuriating smile that made women (and some men) swoon at the very sight of him._

_His lips moved, eyes widened, he was saying something, walking to her, reaching out, but she didn't hear, didn't see, didn't think. She screamed._

"Seisure!" the nurse cried, as the body on the table tensed up and contorted painfully. The attendants grabbed a flailing limb each and held Rose down on the bed.

"As you see" Martha Jones gestured helplessly. "We have no new ideas. Or, rather, they have no idea, as I have been denied access to Rose's records."

Pete Tyler twisted his gloves in desperation as he watched his wife look forlornly at Rose through the thick glass.

"I'll make sure you get authorised" he uttered finally. "No way they are treating her like a test subject. I won't be able to be here all the time. Even then they would probably be able to go behind my back. You will make sure they understand that for cutting up Rose they will pay by being cut themselves. Cut away from the employee list at least" He squeezed his eyes shut. "If they cannot come to any reasonable solution, we'll take her back home. Can I rely on you, doctor Jones?"

She nodded slowly, wondering what she got herself into.

"You will need details that are in Rose's Torchwood personnel file. When you read it, you will understand why it is of utmost importance not to let these... butchers... find any reason to cut Rose open or try any invasive treatment."

Jackie turned to them, determination shining in her face.

"Doctor Jones, my daughter is something special. I'm not saying this because she's my little girl. She may be, when time comes, the only person who can save this whole universe. And I like this one as much as my previous one - even better, considering Pete here - I'd much rather it stayed as it is. Oh, stop it, Pete. She will read Rose's file, mine too, if she wants, and it's all there. Doctor Jones" she turned to the astonished medic. "Rose was born to me and Peter Tyler who died before she even walked. We, and one other, were transported to this reality a bit under two years ago, and have replaced two persons who were killed at that time."

"Cybermen" Martha whispered.

"Jackie Tyler of this world was converted" Pete's voice was hard and low. "Jackie agreed to stay in her place."

"Only Rose never existed here, so we had to create a backstory for her. So, of course, parts of her medical history are sham, only put there to explain her visible scars and some changes that might have occurred."

"But couldn't you have just given the real explanation? After all, any accidents she might have had couldn't be so different from what could happen here... Could they?"

"Werewolf scratching across her back, 1800's stitching. Laser burns. Non-earth colourings in her tattoo. If watched through red-green 3D glasses, she is surrounded by a swarm of shining particles. Enough?"

"She is also mildly telepathic, highly empathic and has slight telekinetic abilities" Jackie added. "Do you feel we could have included any of this in a normal report?"

Martha Jones, MD, just nodded.

A day (and a sleepless night) later a very determined Martha Jones was standing in front of the main desk and repeating her demand. Finally, after the third recitation of her authorisations, the guard gave up and let her in. She noted his name carefully. _Pete will want to know._

After an evening of extensive reading and a night talking to Pete and Jackie, she had, finally, knowledge on which she could base her analysis of Rose's health. And also re-evaluate whatever she herself diagnosed before.

Which was a lot.

"Basing on the blood samples, Rose is no longer human. No human being would have been able to live with these mineral levels, low sugar and, well, several other abnormalities. I will have to cook up results that will give a diagnosis of severe anemia and some general infection. Giving her supplements and general antibiotics - with reference to her allergy listing, of course - may help her and will give the team something to do. Also, it seems that this situation is a recent development - her last blood test was only five days ago - and based on it, your Torchwood physician prescribed the pills - it was showing slight iron deficiency, nothing more interesting."

Pete nodded and simply turned his laptop towards her, an application to falsify blood results already running.

"There is, though, another and much gaver problem" Martha had his attention immediately. "Her sleep patterns. She doesn't sleep. No more than an hour per day.

"Although Rose is, as I said, probably non-human, we have never yet met a species that would be able to survive on next to no sleep. Rose's EEG shows that even when we perceive her as sleeping, her brain is still working at full speed. Only for an hour or so she goes into what would be, for any of us, a light sleep. No deep sleep phase, no REM - only an hour of barely useful nap every twenty-six hours or so."

"That means brain damage?" Pete has seen people go without sleep for much longer than was healthy for them.

"Not necessarily" Martha bit her lower lip. "The blood results may be an outcome _or_ be linked to the sleeping problems. She may be suffering no damage at all. If her physiology has been altered enough to cope with the blood abnormalities, it may also be coping with no sleep. But I don't know, frankly, ANY species with such ability."

Jackie made a strangled noise. The other two looked at her suspiciously as she raked her perfectly coifed hair with her fingers.

"I know one" she finally uttered.

Pete sat straighter suddenly.

"You think...?"

"I suppose so."

"Damn."

Martha waited, suddenly no longer the centre of attention. And quite glad about that. She was a physician, not a xenologist, and her knowledge of aliens was limited to the humanoid ones that have been apprehended by Torchwood. Finally, the pair returned their focus to her.

"What are the real risks here, doctor?"

She inhaled slowly.

"Starting from the 'human' risks - as you said, brain damage, personality disorders, ataxia, aphasia, anything, basically. Any other? Well, hard to estimate without knowing the physiology of whatever species she is mutating into, but I suppose similar, including additional physical changes, and, if the change in total is too large, organs shutdown. For the time being, she is staying without contact with us, but her brain is working full-speed, as if she was completely conscious. Her heartrate is 160, BP almost 145/110. This means she's burning down energy in a rate that is hard to equal by the 'safe' IV nutritients we can give her. Also, if this goes for much longer, her heart is going to sustain damage. The options we have now is either putting her into deeper sleep - to make her brain and heart slow down - or try to wake her up in order to check what is actually going on with her."

Jackie's eyes jumped nervously from the doctor to her husband.

"Do we have any safe drugs that would keep her in deeper state of sleep for long enough?"

"Fortunately, yes. She had no adverse reaction to Thitrax, so we can give her the deep-coma amount safely and work from there" she rubbed her eyes and nose tiredly. "However, there is always a risk that she won't wake up from this. I have no way of even guessing the state of her brain - what it is supposed to be and how badly it's screwed up now. I'm sorry. But I'd rather say it now, then suprise you with this when she doesn't came back."

"But if you try to wake her up now...?" Jackies lips trembled.

"Her heart will probably give in. And I frankly can't say what we could do about it, as transplant would probably be out of question."

Pete drew his wife closer.

"Deep coma. At least we will still have options then."


	20. To die, to sleep 2

**Chapter 10 To die, to sleep;**

To die, to sleep;

To sleep! Perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause.

_Hamlet_ III, 1

**Doctor: Sleeping positions**

His bed was messed up to an unusual degree.

Once he accepted the fact that there is, indeed, another live being on his ship when he is sleeping, the easiness of sleep itself came quite quickly. Of course he could go for weeks on weeks without more than a nap now and then. He still could. But he prefered not to, considering what could happen if he drove himself to sleep deprivation. Like his humans for all these years, who liked to sleep in, some even joking that a time-travelling ship lets them sleep millenia in one stretch, he now took his time and relaxed. A deep, proper, full-sized sleep would also come, at some point. This way he could make sure his next regeneration wouldn't wreck his whole body and mess with his mind. No more of this - if, and it was a big IF, if he had to regenerate again, Jack will be there to oversee it, get him to medbay ASAP and check his vitals. Also, TARDIS will be able to direct Jack to whatever nutritients they would be needing, because after last time with tea (and previous - damn hard to find bananas, when one is floating in freezing water in an evening coat and too-tight suit pants!) he wanted to make sure he'd get exactly what he would need and without delay.

He lied there, looking at the ceiling, trying to understand what was different. He never planned this kind of things before. They just... happened. Companions coped. He managed. OK, not every regeneration was particularily brilliant point in his life - especially the sixth him was nothing to write home about - but he got through, survived and went on.

Now, he was _planning_ and it was, in fact, scaring him a bit. The very fact that he sat down and explained to Jack the mechanics of regeneration, the first signs, the possible causes, risky situations, outcomes, needed materials, protocols and definite no-no's ("Don't give me aspirin, ever, even if I beg for it, or someone thinks it may help my heart", "Never get me to a hospital. EVER. EVEN if you think I finally died - medbay is good enough, but if it really gets weird, or my hearts don't start, run Protocol 3, it is coded to your voice pattern. TARDIS will lock everything and get us, top-speed, to dr Grace Holloway, San Francisco. It has to be after 1999, and she will know what to do...", "No glucose IVs or any other nutritiens intravenously - they may go the wrong way").

He was feeling a bit queasy about giving Jack so much information about himself, but every time he thought about keeping something to himself, a small tiny thought popped up in his brain, reminding him that this, like thousand of other things, may be the detail that saves his life or sanity the next time.

Bed was messed up.

Not by him. He slept on his side, on one side of the 7 feet wide and long bed. The other side of the bed was messed and it radiated... body heat? Residue of a living being sleeping there, with him?

"Jack! What the hell!?"

He was suddenly very, very much awake. And very angry.

And then there was a scream.

A girl was screaming, scared out of her mind, but it was like a music for his ears. Even when the scream suddenly stopped and he heard kitchen implements falling with clatter, his crazy smile was widening.

"Jack!" he burst into the kitchen, where the Captain was trying, in vain, to hide his best parts with a pot and a cooking apron and looking madly at the exact spot that the Doctor was now standing on.

"D..dd...dddd..."

"At first, I thought you brought some company on board and they mistook the rooms" Doctor said in a conversational tone, leaning on the door frame. "But now I think you were quite alone today, and it was actually only me that slept... not alone."

"Wh...? What?"

"Did you, or did you not, in fact, just got caught parading butt-naked around the kitchen and scared Rose Tyler into the next universe?"

"Doctor!"

"But that's great!" he smiled maniacally. "That means she actually _was here_! I mean, look at you - well, maybe not, but still - she _saw_ you. Did you see her? I most certainly _heard_ her, oh yes. And TARDIS felt her existence appear and then shut down again."

"I saw her" Jack gave up the efforts to cover himself and settled on just not showing the most important bits. Somehow getting caught naked in the kitchen _twice_ didn't seem as much fun as getting caught naked in his bedroom, by some appropriate person. "She was here, she looked at me, and screamed. May I tell you what it does to my self-esteem, to have girls scream with fear when they see me? May I?"

"You may not. But you may tell me what she looked like" the Doctor scrunched his nose and sat at the table. "Also, you may turn off the gas under that pan, before the eggs burn."

After a few minutes (and one short trip to Jack's wardrobe) they were sitting on their usual places and Jack was inhaling his scrambled eggs, trying not to choke when he related the very short story of his encounter with their most beloved friend.

"She walked in. Not appeared here, walked. When I rerun what I heard just before she showed up, I know I noticed steps in the corridor, but thought it was just something in the kitchen. Then she stood by the door, probably slightly stunned by all the beauty..."

"Captain."

"Very well. I turned 'round, feeling eyes on my ass - a bit intrusive. She stared at me for at most two seconds and then screamed. She bent forward, still crying something, and flickered out."

"Flickered... out?"

"Like a damn Princess Leia on a bad recording."

"But when she was here, she was material? I mean, not see-through, or flickering?"

"No, solid, totally. And then she blinked out and in once and disappeared."

Doctor pouted slightly, pondering the new data.

"I think... I... Well. Hm."

"Very informative, thank you."

Doctor snatched last half-burnt toast.

"I think I need something to eat. Also, I think - I am very hopeful! - that we can, in fact, pull her through."

The next ship-evening he laid there, on "his" side of the bed, curled around "her" pillow. Still somewhat smelling of her.

Next morning didn't bring anything new, but for a few blonde hair, which he collected gleefully and took to the TARDIS lab for identification.

Blonde hair turned out to be emitting - still active - void particles. Their roots, however, gave something even more interesting - the DNA of, well, human origins, but very much mutated. And the mutations were such that the Doctor stared at the readout for several good seconds before comprehending them. Including the fact that the tiny wisp of energy still stuck to these cells was pulsating with the familiar golden glow.


End file.
